


Shackled and Drawn

by batty4u



Category: Suits (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Boxing, In later chapters - Freeform, M/M, Rape/Non-con References, Reference to self harm, harvey is a boxer, mike is a screw up, some violent moments
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-24
Updated: 2015-06-16
Packaged: 2017-12-09 08:39:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 13
Words: 64,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/772222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/batty4u/pseuds/batty4u
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mike had never been to a boxing match before. A few of Grammie’s friends at the home watched them, and he’d settle down with them so they’d have company. But he’d never stopped to watch it closely. He’d never bothered to dish out the extra money for a ticket to a live fight. That had always been Trevor’s thing, the violence, the blood stains on the fabric, the thud of gloves hitting muscle and bone. He’d always thought it too much, not something to glorify, just people brutally beating the shit out of each other.</p><p>But when he first laid eyes on Harvey Specter, towering in the ring, he realized that he’d been wrong.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys and dolls!
> 
> This is a work in progress so please bare with me. I've done a good amount of boxing and watch MMA and Golden Gloves adamantly, so most of the stuff I use in this AU will be based off of actual fights and techniques. There will be a heavy dose of blood and some violence, along with mentions of self harm and abuse later on, so if that's not your cup of tea, I understand. I'm not sure at what rate I'll be able to post in this AU due to school and finals but I'll do my best. 
> 
> If you have any questions please let me know.
> 
> The title is a Bruce Springsteen song.
> 
> (Here are some doodles for the au!)
> 
> http://24.media.tumblr.com/c9894c6c2319596bfc1b3846062a4edf/tumblr_mmg2tsRflr1qlydzoo1_500.jpg  
> http://25.media.tumblr.com/ec063e3d1098c82e61287d53854c9dee/tumblr_mmgis4xELF1qlydzoo1_500.jpg  
> http://24.media.tumblr.com/f0d5c407494055592e3f7a034ff5c4bc/tumblr_mmgh4rQAHG1qlydzoo1_500.jpg  
> http://25.media.tumblr.com/b70ba3974e61a1f1861704e93764fa87/tumblr_mmgc2cbYYN1qlydzoo1_500.jpg

He wasn’t supposed to be in the warehouse that night. No, Mike was supposed to be home studying for the law exam that wasn’t his. He was supposed to be trying to make something of himself. Instead he was following Trevor through a massive crowd of screaming people, most drunk, the rest slowly joining them. He’d gone with Trevor to a pot exchange in hopes of protecting him. They’d gotten out without much trouble, but then of course, that wasn’t enough for Trevor. He needed to prove something, whatever it was Mike didn’t know. Maybe he was just insecure about his dick size or something. All Mike knew is he was in a warehouse, without the little X on his hand and no ticket to save his ass from the bouncers he knew were bound to find them. 

Adrenaline was by far becoming his favorite drug. His heart was racing, pulse hammering under his skin as he waded through the crowd after Trevor, who was trying to get closer to the center of the room. Mike didn’t even know what was going on. The music was too dull for it to be a rave, and it wasn’t a club. It was a warehouse filled to bursting with people, that was it. Trevor tugged him forward, out of sight of a nearby bouncer who was making his rounds and Mike stumbled forward, mere feet from the center of the room, where a large platform stood, framed by red cables and bathed in fluorescent lights.   
Mike had never been to a boxing match before. A few of Grammie’s friends at the home watched them, and he’d settle down with them so they’d have company. But he’d never stopped to watch it closely. He’d never bothered to dish out the extra money for a ticket to a live fight. That had always been Trevor’s thing, the violence, the blood stains on the fabric, the thud of gloves hitting muscle and bone. He’d always thought it too much, not something to glorify, just people brutally beating the shit out of each other.

He realized in that moment he’d been wrong.

The two men seemed larger than life. Blue Trunks was tall and heavy, muscles defined like an old world sculpture. His braids were tight against his skull, pulled back from his face, a scar trailing along the right side of his jaw. He was quick on his feet, bouncing on his soles, moving around the ring with ease, throwing a left and a right and moving in for the kill. He was a brawler, wild shots in the air, full of power, and Mike was sure if they made contact they could break bone.   
Red Shorts was blond and gorgeous. He was shorter than his opponent but not by much. His skin was flushed red and slick with sweat, his movements deliberate and carefully timed and placed. He was a man of strategy, his eyes fixed on his opponent and not once glancing away. Mike felt his chest tighten as he watched him, the way it did when the light hit Trevor just right and he looked like the boy he loved, before the drugs and the trouble. Red Shorts took a hit, a heavy blow to his ribs and Mike could already imagine the beautiful bloom of discolored skin the next morning. Another hit to the bicep, a quick dodge and Red Shorts struck back, a series of quick jabs to his opponent’s abdomen, causing him to stumble. The bell rang and they broke apart to breath, retreating to their corners. 

Mike watched Red Shorts stalk across the ring, chest heaving with labored breaths. His blond hair was cut short, his bangs sticking to his sweaty forehead. The bruises on his ribs were already starting to form as his coach and medic patched up a small cut on his forehead and checked to see if his nose was broken. From what Mike could see it wasn’t, just bruised. Red Shorts was quick, he’d been able to dodge all the face shot Blue Trunks had thrown with surprising ease. The crowd around him erupted in another series of cheers, nothing he could discern, but Red Shorts raised a gloved hand and waved to them, so Mike figured it had been directed at him.   
He had a smile that made Mike’s breath catch. He could barely feel Trevor’s hand on his as he stared at Red Shorts, smiling as he got to his feet with all the gorgeous confidence in the world, and went to face his opponent for the last round. Nothing else seemed to matter in that moment, as their gloves touched and the shots started coming. Mike stayed rooted to the spot, staring in awe at the man crowned in gold and blinding light. 

“Mike come on!” Trevor shouted, pulling him sharply. Mike turned to look behind them. A Bouncer had spotted them and was making his way over. 

“Shit.”

He tore his eyes away from the ring and dashed after Trevor, fighting his way through the screaming crowd. It was chaos, drunken and disorderly chaos as they ran, Trevor making for the exit, Mike being forced back to the center of the room. He took off in the other direction heading for the only door he could see, hoping the bouncers had lost sight of him in the crowd. More screams and cheers as the fight continued and Mike fought the urge to stop and see what had happened. Had Red Shorts been hurt? Had he won? 

Giving into the urge, Mike twisted around to look, only to see red mixing with the blonde crown. He felt his stomach clench and his mouth go dry. He didn’t care. This guy brought this on himself, Mike didn’t even know him, it didn’t matter. All that mattered was saving his own ass. Red Shorts would be fine. He had to be fine.   
Mike slipped through the crowd towards the unguarded door and crept inside without much trouble. He’d lost Trevor for sure, the dick was probably out on the street already, home free, ready to go find Jenny and kiss her stupid and forget he had left Mike in the hellhole of a warehouse. He’d wake up the next morning and think, ‘hey I wonder if Mike made breakfast’. And when he found their apartment empty, that’s when he’d realize he’d left him behind. Again. 

He didn’t stop running until he found himself in the locker room. It was empty, his footsteps echoing around him. He should be safe for now. He dropped onto one of the benches to catch his breath. Hopefully this was one of the unused locker rooms or at least he’d be able to make a break before someone came in and mistook him for a stalker. If he was caught, he prayed it would at least be someone understanding, someone who knew what it was like to be completely in love with an asshole. 

Footsteps sounded and Mike felt the panic overwhelm him again. He jumped up from the bench and rushed to find a hiding place. The fifth grader in him said go for the lockers, and as the loud voices and footsteps grew closer, he went for the lockers. Grateful for being thin, Mike crawled into one of the nearby lockers and shut the door, covering his mouth. He closed his eyes and fought not to hold his breath. 

“You need to be more careful,” a woman’s voice chided. 

“Occupational Hazard, Donna.” A man replied. He sounded winded and hoarse. The other voices Mike had heard were gone, the door opening and the roar of the crowd meeting his ears, before it faded as the door closed. “You know that this kind of shit happens.”

“It shouldn’t happen this often,” The woman, Donna, chided. She was exasperated, from the tone of her voice. The man chuckled. Mike could see them moving through the slots in the Locker door. Well, he could see the woman, Donna. She had thick beautiful red hair that hung around her face, which was starting to show the faintest signs of age.

“I won, Donna. I’m fine. It’s a scratch and some bruises. I’ll be fine in the morning.”

“You scared me.”

A sigh. What sounded like a kiss.

“You worry too much.”

“Someone has to worry about your sorry ass, Harvey.” She chuckled. “Get changed. The press has had their time, you can probably hightail it out the back if you want. Be good until tomorrow. I’ll swing by after one, okay?”

“Aye, Captain.”

“Goodnight, Chekov.”

“Kirk.”

“Whatever.” And with the sharp tattoo of her heels, Donna took her leave.

Mike held his breath as he listened this Harvey guy move around the Locker room. He couldn’t see him clearly, little flashes of movement as he pulled off the wrapping on his hands and hummed to himself, occasionally hissing in pain. When he moved closer and opened the locker three doors down from where Mike was hiding, Mike held his breath and closed his eyes. He pressed himself as close to the back of the locker as he could, his feet slipping on the supplies that littered the floor of the locker. He slipped on a can of odor spray and grabbed the locker wall for support, the loud bang of his hand on metal echoing around him. 

Shit.

He held his breath as he listened to the locker door close, to slow, uneasy footsteps make their way to his locker. The light filtering through the slots in the door was blocked as the man, this Harvey, stood in front of the door and peered in, eyebrow arched in question. Mike could see that much, he just hoped a scowl wasn’t accompanying it. A sigh met his ears and the door opened. 

Red Shorts stared at him, amused. A dark gash lined his left eyebrow, slowly starting to scab around the little white tabs pressed over it. Dried blood was stuck to his cheekbone and jaw, hair sticking up every which way, the gold strands stained with blood from his head wound. The bruise Mike had predicted was already in bloom on his right ribs, his abs bruised as well, but not to the point of injury. His dark eyes were fixed on Mike, scanning his face, that Mike was sure had ended up contorted in fear. It was all he could do to stare back and remember to breathe. 

“You’re not supposed to be in here, kid,” Red Shorts said in a low, laughing voice. It made Mike shiver, the roughness of it in his throat surprising him.

“I-I’m sorry,” Mike stammered. 

“Please tell me you aren’t here for an autograph.” Red Shorts was smiling, a little smirk that reminded Mike of a cat with a mouse in it’s jaws. 

“I-I’m not sir.”

A chuckle. “Good. Get out.” Red Shorts stepped to the side to let Mike out of the locker, reaching up to scratch at the gash over his eye.

“Your face is bleeding.” Mike commented, still wedged in the locker. He noted the drop of blood trying to work it’s way from the man’s nose, the gash on his head reopened under his anxious and shaking fingers. 

“I know.”

“Like, kind of a lot.”

“Goodnight, Kid.” Red Shorts ushered him out of the locker. Mike climbed out and tried to make it graceful, instead of stumbling around on shaky legs. 

“You aren’t gonna turn me into security?” he asked, stretching and glancing around the locker room. They were alone, no bouncers and cops waiting to grab him.

“Do I need to?”

“No!” his reply came out more panicked than he’d meant it too.

Red Shorts regarded him with an almost fond expression, though Mike could see the amusement and pity mixed in with it. He leaned back against the lockers, tanned and well defined body on display, bruised and a little bit bloodied and everything Mike did not need to be thinking about when he could easily be hauled off to jail at any given moment. 

“You want to tell me why you were hiding in the locker...” 

“M-Mike.”

“Mike,” Red Shorts nodded. “If you aren’t a stalker my lockers are an odd place to be hiding.”

“I’m not a stalker, dude, I just,” Mike sighed and rubbed his face in frustration. “My douchebag friend snuck us in here without tickets and the bouncers caught us and he just... He fucking bolted without me and I panicked and thought I could hide here until I got a chance to sneak out.”

“Why did you follow him in here in the first place, if you hated the idea so much?”

Because he was in love with someone who could care less about him. Someone who used him as a scapegoat time and time again, who abused his trust and stole his things, but always promised he’d do better, be better, be his. Under the careful scrutiny of Red Shorts’ dark gaze Mike felt the weight of it double on his shoulders. He felt pathetic, standing in front of this boxer, this champion no doubt, who could probably get any damn girl he wanted just by flashing a smile and flexing his arm, while Mike couldn’t even be loved by the only person he wanted.

“You ever care about someone so much, that no matter what stupid shit they pull, you end up following them into it against all your better judgement?” he asked, voice small and pathetic in the open, echoing room. His gaze, having been fixed on his shoes, lifted to Red Shorts’ face when a heavy sigh met his ears.

“Yeah, I know how that goes,” Red Shorts said gently, his rough voice tinged with a hint of regret. He looked away, the blood from his eyebrow trickling down the bridge of his nose, but he didn’t seem to notice.

“You want help with that?” Mike asked. “The blood, I mean,” he added when Red Shorts frowned at him.

“Oh, uh, yeah sure.” Red Shorts dropped onto one of the benches with a sigh, rubbing his hands together. Mike took the first aid kit sitting by Red Shorts’ bag and knelt down in front of him. The Boxer’s hands were shaking, gnarled and swollen and discolored. His whole body was trembling, minute little shivers that almost went unnoticed. Coming off of adrenaline was a bitch, especially when it was the only thing keeping you on your feet. Mike could sympathize, it sucked. He took the gauze and pressed it carefully to Red Shorts’ eyebrow, apologizing at the hiss of pain. Cleaning the blood off his nose was tricky, Mike trying to gauge how much pressure was too much. It didn’t help that the boxer’s eyes were fixed on him, pupils blown, focused intently on Mike’s eyes, his lips, whatever it was that he seemed to find so interesting. 

“There. Don’t pick at it,” Mike said, sitting back on his heels. “It’s not as bad as the blood makes it look.”

“It never is.”

Mike nodded. “Right.” He got to his feet and packed the kit. “So you’re not going to call the cops on me?”

“If I were, they’d be here already.”

“Thanks.”

“You’re an idiot.”

“I know.”

Awkward silence.

“Did you win?”

The boxer smiled. “Knocked him flat on his ass.”

“He ok?”

“Probably.”

“Congrats, Red Shorts.”

He laughed. “Red Shorts?”

“I don’t know your name,” Mike said with a shrug. “The other guy was Blue Trunks.”

Again he was subjected to the scrutinizing gaze. “You aren’t a fan?”

“This was my first boxing match. Ever.”

Red Shorts chuckled and got to his feet, offering a shaking hand to Mike. “Harvey Specter.” His smile made Mike’s stomach drop.

“Mike Ross.” He took Harvey’s trembling hand in his and shook it, steadying the tremors and holding tight. He could feel harvey’s pulse still racing, the adrenaline still hitting him full force. He was surprisingly calm for it. The last time Mike had been jacked up on the need to survive, he had puked coming off of it. But Harvey was the picture of controlled power, moving around Mike to his locker, pulling out his clothes and slipping of his shoes. Mike stood quietly to the side, not sure what to do with himself. He should leave, he was being given the chance to run. But he stayed, even as the little voice in the back of his mind told him not to. Harvey seemed to forget him for a few minutes, tossing his shoes into his bag, along with the ace bandages for his hands and his gloves. Mike tried not to notice the blood on them. 

“You fight well.”

Harvey looked over at him, amused. “I’ve got a title shot in a month or two.”

“You’ll win.”

“Yes, I will.” On anyone else the overconfidence would have been a turnoff, but Harvey carried it like a medal, like he had earned the right to be arrogant and pompous and Mike didn’t doubt that for a moment. He didn’t doubt the hours of hard work Harvey had probably put into this, or how many injuries he had suffered to be able to puff out his chest and say that like it was a universally acknowledged truth.

“Do you need something kid?” Harvey asked, reaching for his t-shirt. Mike had expected him to get dressed up, in a suit or something, to put on some playboy image to go face the press with. Instead he was laying out clothes that Mike guessed were several years old, a worn yankees t-shirt and faded jeans. He tried not to focus on the roll of muscles in Harvey’s back as he stretched to pull on his shirt. 

“I uh, no.” Mike looked away. “No, sorry. I should go.” He started to move for the door.

“This friend of yours,” Harvey said as he passed him. “Cut him off.”

Mike froze. “I can’t.”

“You need to.”

An irrational anger bubbled up in Mike’s chest. “You don’t know shit about it.”

Harvey turned slowly to face him. “He left your skinny ass for the hounds. I think I know enough.” he reached out and put a hand on Mike’s shoulder, the tremors making his grip weak. “He’s poison. He’s going to drag you down and spit you out and leave you for dead.”

“Why do you care?” 

“I don’t. You’ve got a small amount of borrowed time, kid, don’t let this guy take it from you.”

“The way someone took it from you?” Mike spat. He shouldn’t be angry, Harvey was right. Grammie told him the same thing almost every other week, he knew in his heart and in his gut that Trevor was going to fuck him over until he he was of no use to him. He knew, but that didn’t mean a stranger with an ego and a nice right hook could lecture him on it.   
He leaned close and pressed his finger to Harvey’s chest. “He fucking cares, alright? You worry about some dude rearranging your face, I’ll worry about myself.”

Harvey’s fingers curled around his wrist and Mike started to regret getting so close to a man who hurt people for a living. His eyes were dark and his grip on Mike’s thin wrist was tight, his thumb pressed into his pulse.   
He pulled Mike closer and snarled. “If he cared he would have come back for you, instead of leaving you alone, in here, with me.” 

Mike tried to swallow the lump in his throat as Harvey’s grip tightened. They were inches apart, Harvey still high on adrenaline, his skin hot, pupils blown and Mike was stunned by how beautiful it all was. He stared at him, eyes wide, lips parted, trying to remind himself how to breathe, trying to think about Trevor, about Jenny, about the fact they might miss him. Maybe Trevor would notice he was gone, maybe he was on his way back right now and he’d come bounding through the door looking for him and-

“He doesn’t care.”

Mike found himself clinging to Harvey’s voice like a lifeline. It was low and steady, grounding Mike with the truth he didn’t want to swallow. He didn’t want to go home and listen to Trevor mocking him for getting left behind. He didn’t want to hide in his room pretending someone cared when no one did. He didn’t want to cut off the only person who looked at him like he had any worth.   
But then, that’s how Harvey was looking at him. Why, Mike had no clue. Harvey held the same look in his eyes, mingled with the irritation and the focus, that Mike craved. The gaze was hot and weighed him down and made his knees quake. Mike was reminded of the way he looked in the ring, powerful and imposing and godlike as he towered over the crowd, the way he loomed over Mike, holding him in place with the hand on his wrist and his unwavering gaze.

A heartbeat passed between them. 

Then Mike was moving, reaching for Harvey with his free hand, rising up on his toes, and kissing him with all the force he could muster. He was met with resistance at first, Harvey trying to step back, but the lockers were in his way so all it did was bring Mike closer, pressing into him. Then his hands closed around Mike’s face and they were turning and Mike felt the cold metal of the lockers through his thin t-shirt as Harvey all but slammed him against them. He held Mike there and pulled away, Mike whimpering at the loss. Or maybe it was out of the fear of being hit.   
“What are you doing?” Harvey asked him in a slow voice. He was breathless and Mike could feel his fingers fighting the urge to tighten around his jaw and neck. 

“I’m sorry.”

“Answer me.”

“I-it seemed like a good idea at the t-time.” Mike swallowed thickly. He braced himself for the first blow, sure that Harvey’s fists could probably break his cheek bone without any trouble at all.

Harvey laughed. But he didn’t let go. If anything he held tighter, pushing Mike into the lockers, kissing him before he could say anything else. His kiss was forceful and desperate, licking at Mike’s lips until he opened up for him, an undignified whimper sounding against Harvey’s assault. He slid his hands down to Mike’s thighs and lifted him, holding him against the lockers with surprising ease. 

“Fuck,” Mike hissed as their hips ground together. “This wasn’t.. e-expected.”

“Adrenaline,” Harvey growled against his neck. He stopped kissing Mike’s neck and pulled back for air. “Sorry.”

“No, god no don’t be sorry, come back here,” that was all it took to reel him back in for more fevered kisses, their hips grinding against each other, Mike’s hands threading through Harvey’s short blonde hair. It was good, really good, being touched and teased and kissed until he was breathless. Harvey was strong, his muscles shifting under his tanned skin as he hoisted Mike higher, held him tighter, rolled his hips. Trevor had never touched him like this, no one had ever touched him like this, let alone dry hump him against a row of lockers. It was like a dream, or a porno, or both and Mike was ready to close his eyes and just go with it, when the sharp tattoo of stilettos met his ears. 

“Harvey? You still here?” came the voice of the woman from earlier, Donna.

“Shit,” Harvey said, dropping Mike back to his feet. “Locker, go hide, now.”

“What?”

“Get in the damn locker,” Harvey demanded, shoving Mike into the same locker as before and closing the door.

“Harvey?”

“Donna, I thought you were handling the press?” Harvey asked, voice level and unmoved. If Mike hadn’t been the one sucking face with him seconds before, he’d never think it had happened. 

“And I thought you were sneaking out the back,” Donna didn’t phrase it like a question. “Who’s in here with you?”

“No one. Just me.”

“Who?”

“Donna.”

“Gender?”

Harvey sighed. “Male.”

“Nice.”

“I’ll be good.”

“Damn right you will.” Mike listened to her heels click against the tile floor.

“Goodnight, Donna.”

“Goodnight, Harvey.”

The locker door opened. “Sorry.”

“Who is that?” Mike demanded, stumbling out of the locker.

“Donna, my assistant, handler, god, what have you.” Harvey looked almost sheepish.

“Who assumes you’re fucking a fan?”

“Well...”

“Is that a thing for you?”

Harvey shook his head. “No. Most fans are more interested in me beating the shit out of someone. If they show interest in going home with me, they’re probably too drunk, too young, or just completely unappealing.”

“You have such high standards.” Mike quipped and Harvey chuckled.

“Sorry about jumping you,” he said, packing the rest of his things and swapping his boxing shorts for his jeans. Mike looked away more for his own sanity than Harvey’s decency.

“I said it was fine. I mean I did start it so-”

“You did start it. Probably shouldn’t do that very-”

“Hey you never said no. In fact you seemed to encourage-”

“Come home with me?”

Mike stared at him. “What?”

The eye roll was impressive. “Either come home with me, or let me drop you off at your place.”

“Why?”

Harvey considered him a moment. “Because if you get run over or shot or god knows what, the first person the police are going to question after that dickhead of a person you call your friend, is me.” He shrugged. “I’m not a fan of dealing with cops. They’re pricks.”

Mike kept staring. “And how does me coming home with you factor into that?”

Picking up his bag, Harvey rolled his eyes again and motioned for Mike to follow. “I haven’t gotten laid in a while. You clearly haven’t gotten laid in a while. And frankly, as fun as it is to wine and dine someone and seduce them into my bed, I am buzzing with enough adrenaline to jump start a dead man’s heart, do not have the patience for courtship, and happen to have a pretty little pup with a nice ass who’s dying to be fucked through a mattress.” He stopped at the door. “So you can either say yes, and we go back to my place for the night and I-”

“Rock my world?”

“You make it sound so tacky.”

Mike gave a sputtered laugh and shook his head. “This is fucking nuts.”

“So was hiding in the locker room, at a fight you snuck into.” Harvey held open the back door and waited.

Mike chewed his bottom lip as he thought. He could go with this Harvey guy, who at least seemed to have a half decent sense of humor, and get laid for the first time in months. Or he could go home and face the one person who would never want him. 

“You are allowed to say no,” Harvey added. “But yes is probably the most logical decision.”

“Is that your dick or your brain talking, Spock?” Mike asked as he crossed the room to where Harvey stood.

“Hey, first of all, if I’m anyone, it’s Kirk. And second, you can’t talk. You’ve got more of a hard on for this than me.” And he was right, Mike’s tight jeans were making it fairly obvious which choice he’d rather make. He followed Harvey to his car, a sleek, black, 1964 Shelby Mustang, at which even Mike, who knew jack shit about cars, had to give an approving groan. It was beautiful and Harvey beamed like he’d built it himself. 

Once they were settled in the care, Harvey glanced over. “What’s the call?”

Mike leaned across the gearshift and kissed him. When he pulled back, Harvey was smirking in poorly concealed victory.

“Good choice.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Three months later the climax of Mike's mediocre, mundane life comes to a head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set three months after the first chapter and my way of staying as true to canon as possible in the AU setting. 
> 
> A note on the Alzheimer's: In the Audio Commentary for the Pilot episode, Korsch said that Grammie was initially meant to have Alzheimer's in the show, but due to the rest of the difficulties in Mike's life, he worried it might be too much for him to handle at once. Sad as it is, I share Gabriel and Patrick's disappointment at not being able to see the dynamic of a failing memory versus a perfect memory, and the haunting fact that it might happen to Mike one day. So I've given it a place here.

It was three months before Mike saw Harvey again. 

Sure, he saw a fight or two on TV, kept track of his stats online as best he could, when he wasn’t working or visiting Grammie. The guys at her home were glad he was finally taking an interest in the sport. But he had lost Harvey in the vastness of New York City. Not that he had ever expected to see him again. Besides, if he did, who’s to say Harvey would remember him, or want anything to do with him? He wasn’t out of the closet, if the girls he was always with were anything to go by, and he was, well, famous, and Mike was nothing by comparison. Harvey spent his days training and Mike spent his delivering packages and getting high.

And then there was the Trevor issue. 

Mike hadn’t been able to cut him off. He knew he had to there was just something so difficult about looking Trevor in the face and telling him they were over, after so many years. Harvey would have laughed at him for being such a wuss. His own grandmother had laughed at him for being such a wuss. He was a wuss, he had accepted it.   
So he spent those three months with Trevor. Sometimes with Jenny and Trevor, though he was usually the awkward third wheel and no one like being the awkward third wheel, so he stopped tagging along on their nights out. He threw himself into his job, took up a couple extra shifts where he could, trying to keep up with the medical bills and the rent and the measly grocery budget he allowed himself. He ignored the way his ribs had become more noticeable and the way his appetite was almost nonexistent. If he woke up dizzy it was just from sleeping funny or not sleeping enough. It had nothing to do with how little he was eating and how much he was smoking or the strain he was putting on his body. It was just a side effect of too little sleep was all. 

Then came the climax, the apocalyptic moment of his mundane life.

“25,000?” he repeated, staring at Tracy, his Grandmother’s nurse.

“25,000.”

“Jesus Christ,” Mike swore, leaning against the wall outside Grammie’s room. “And there’s nothing-”

“Other than a state facility no,” Tracy sighed. “Her Alzheimer's is getting progressively worse, babe, and she’ll need more care. I want her to stay, you know I do, but them’s the brakes.”

Mike nodded, his mouth dry. “How long do I have?”

“The end of next week.”

Ten days to find 25,000 dollars. Mike finally understood the figurative meaning of having your back against a wall. He kissed Grammie goodbye, promised Tracy he’d find the money, and went home to wallow.

Three days into his wallowing, Trevor offered him his first real solution.

That in itself should have told Mike it was a terrible idea. 

“I’m not going to be your damn drug mule, Trevor.” They were sitting on the roof of Mike’s building, sharing their third joint of the night. Mike was grateful he’d built up some sort of tolerance, otherwise he would have said yes to the ridiculous offer without even considering the risk.

“How else are you going to get the money man?”

“Legally, that’s how.”

“I mean you could try hooking, you’ve got decent goods.”

“That’s not legal either, Trevor.” Mike noted that it was the closest he would ever get to Trevor calling him attractive. Harvey had thought he was attractive. Harvey had called him-

Why was he thinking about Harvey?

“The point is bro, you have like no options.” Trevor took a long drag and finished off the joint, reaching for his beer. “And I, as your best and only friend, am offering you a foolproof method of getting a shit ton of money. And all you have to do is hand someone a briefcase and walk away.”

“Trevor, this plan is the worst plan I have ever heard.”

Mike tried to remind himself of that when Trevor shoved a briefcase full of weed into his hands on a Wednesday morning. He had tried everything else, he really had, but bike messaging only made so much and he could only sell a few things and he couldn’t make a deal with the landlord on rent and there was no way he was hooking, he didn’t have the balls for that. 

“Remind me what I’m doing again.”

Trevor rolled his eyes. “6 pm tonight you’re going to visit a Bar called Rollo’s. The address is here,” he handed Mike a paper with his scrawled writing on it. Mike vaguely knew the area. “You go in, order a drink or two, try not to get wasted and then, look for your mark. They’ll take you upstairs, make the exchange, you’ll get the money and we’re home free.”

“And why aren’t you doing this if its so safe?”

“Date with Jenny.”

“Oh, fuck you man.”

All he got in return was a laugh. “Sorry bro, she makes the rules.”

“I get busted for this I am ruining your life.”

“Sure, sure.”

With his stomach in a knot and his hands shaking, Mike went to Rollo’s at 6 pm like he was told, with the briefcase in hand. He ordered a shot of whiskey, hoping to calm his nerves and waited.   
6:32 and Mike knew he was being watched. It was terrifying but he did his best to breathe and not have a fit at the bar. There were two men watching him, one in the corner, and one seated at a nearby table. The man in the corner moved through the crowded room and slid into the open seat next to Mike.

“Sam Adams please,” he asked, leaning on the bar, and Mike caught a glimpse of his holster. The bartender nodded and the man turned to Mike. “You a lawyer or something kid?”

Mike fidgeted. Trevor had told him to wear a suit, these guys were supposed to be upperclass. Not that his suit would pass him off as upper class but he figured it would at least help him blend in. The bar was filled with various suits, probably lawyers or accountants drinking away a long day at the office. What was one more lie to go with the drugs?

“Yeah, first year associate,” He said with a weak smile. 

“You seem too young.”

“So I’m told.” Mike saw the other man move closer, the glint of metal on his hip catching the dim light.

They were cops.

Mike downed the rest of his drink, it was time to go. “You know what time it is man? I left my phone at the office.”

The cop raised an eyebrow but checked the watch on his wrist. It was plain, simple, with a dark leather band, not something a member of high society would own. “6:45.”

“Shit, I’m late for dinner.”

“You married?”

“Nah, it’s my grandmother. You know how they are,” He chuckled as he climbed off his stool, trying to feign a calm tone. “Trevor, where were you I was worried sick these streets aren’t safe don’t you love your grandma?” 

Maybe he should have felt bad for using Trevor’s name.

The cop laughed. “My gram was an earful, so I hear you.”

“Have a good one.”

“You too.”

Mike could feel their eyes following him out of the bar. It was a setup, Trevor had sent him into a goddamn setup. Someone had tipped the cops and they knew he was dropping the drugs upstairs and Mike could feel the onset of a panic attack mounting in his chest. He made it out to the street before he started to panic, picking up his pace and hoping to get away unseen. But the door to Rollo’s opened again and one of the cops emerged, following him at a distance.

Mike turned a corner and ran.

He could hear the panicked footsteps behind him as the cop took up the chase, but years of cycling had blessed him with an impressive endurance. He ran as fast as his feet would carry him, darting down alleys, making turns on streets he didn’t recognize, hiding behind dumpsters until he could no longer hear the cop behind him. He huddled in the doorway of an old shop and waited, listening closely in case the footsteps and shouting returned. 

Nothing. 

With a deep, grounding breath, Mike slipped back into the street and tried to make his way back to familiar ground. He barely knew the area, the warehouses on the edge of the hudson looming in the weak light from the street lamps. He at least knew he was on the Manhattan side of the river, the lights of Brooklyn, of safety, glittering like Gatsby’s beacon on the opposite shore. If he was in Manhattan, which he was, he needed the Subway. Or at least a cab. He’d risk a cab, if he could find one. Or better, if he could find a street that wasn’t a dead end or an alley or a one way street that led right back to another warehouse. 

It was the middle of the night, Mike was lost, and as usual, it was all Trevor’s fault.

Wandering around had done him no good. His phone was almost dead, his feet hurt, and he had the growing dread that something bad was going to happen. He damned his gut when a voice met his ears.

“Hey, buddy, you lost?”

A couple of guys had stepped out of an alley behind a nearby warehouse. He recognized one of them, he’d been in Rollo’s having a drink with a pair of attractive women. Another was far too well dressed to be a normal alleyway thug. 

“No I’m good, just heading home,” He replied. “Had one too many you know? Lost track of time.”

The man who had spoken, Mike tagged him as Goon Number 1, nodded. “S’a nice briefcase you got there.” Mike just nodded and tried to take a few subtle steps back. “Saw you in Rollo’s man. I think what’s in there, might be ours.”

“Uh, lot’s of guys had, uhm, briefcases in there, could be a mistake.”

“You have, if I’m not mistaken, the equivalent of 50,000 dollars worth of drugs in that briefcase, correct?” asked the man in the suit. Mike stared. “Thought so. That’s mine, and I would like it.”

“And the m-money?” Mike asked, backing away, praying for his voice to stay steady. 

“You blew the deal, boy, by running. I don’t think you’ve earned it.” The man smiled a horrifying grin. “I’ll take the briefcase now.”

Mike ran. 

Ok, he knew it was stupid to try and run. He had three guys on his ass, his legs ached, his sense of direction was completely fucked, and Dead End suddenly had a new, very sobering meaning. But terror overtook him and he acted on instinct.

Let it never be said that instinct is always right.

Mike skidded to a halt when he hit a dead end, clutching the briefcase to his chest. He was cornered and the handful of men were closing in, Suit simply standing off to the side to watch as they circled Mike and waited for him to make a stupid move.

His stupid move was to stay rooted to the spot and cling to the briefcase with all the strength he had. They found it amusing, as they struggled for it. They seemed reluctant to pull the knives tucked into their belts. Mike figured he should have been grateful that all they were doing was beating him. Bruises and cracked ribs would heal, his bloody lip and bleeding nose would scab up in time. A knife wound, bleeding out on the pavement, that would probably have been the end. One man had a handgun, but he stood by Suit and kept it tucked in it’s holster. 

“Hey!”

They briefcase was ripped out of Mike’s grip, the contents spilling out onto the pavement as someone came up behind him. He tried not to swallow the mouthful of blood as he rolled onto his side, letting the blood from his nose drip onto the ground.

“This isn’t your business bro,” Goon Number 1 said, kneeling down to gather up the bags of weed, eyes fixed on the man standing over Mike. “Get lost.”

“This is my property, dickhead.”

“And this is mine,” Suit explained, nodding to the drugs. “So be on your way.”

Mike glanced up through his swelling eye to see who stood over him. The street light half crowned him in muted gold, his arms crossed over his chest, feet spread in a defensive stance. He was ready to fight them if he needed to. It took everything Mike had to reach over and grab the man’s ankle. When he looked down, Mike shook his head, hoping the message was clear. No one needed to get shot for his own mistake.

“Leave the kid and go,” The man said after a moment. He knelt down and picked up the stray bag of weed.

“Or?”

“Or I call the two cops sitting a block away. They’ve got their patrol cars, so I don’t think running would work well for you. I’ve got one of them on speed dial. Name’s Andy, he’s a nice guy. Bigger than you.” He tossed Goon Number 1 the bag.

Suit considered him a moment. He then nodded and the men backed away, Goon holding tightly to the briefcase. “Be glad I’m a fair man.”

“I thank my goddamned lucky star,” came the reply dripping with sarcasm. 

Once the group of men had left, Mike allowed himself to cough up the mouthful of blood, retching onto the asphalt under him. His savior, god forbid he ever called him that again, sighed and knelt down in front of him. 

“Jesus kid, didn’t your dad ever teach you to fight?” He asked, rubbing Mike’s back as he coughed, more blood splattering across the black ground.

“My dad’s dead, you asshole,” Mike said when he finally stopped coughing.

“Yeah well, so’s mine, join the club.” He helped Mike sit up. “Are you-”

“I’m fine,” Mike told him, trying to push his hands away. “I didn’t need your-”

“Mike?”

“What?”

“Mike Ross?” The man repeated and Mike blinked rapidly so his eyes would focus.

“H-Harvey?” he choked out. 

The Boxer smiled. “Well this was not how I had expected to see you again.”

Mike could only stare as Harvey hoisted him to his feet. He was just as handsome as he had been the night they met. His touch was just as gentle, his eyes as soft, his arms holding Mike tightly, just as they had when he’d pulled Mike back into bed the morning after, keeping him from leaving before breakfast. Harvey helped him hobble into the closest warehouse, the large double doors thrown wide open.

“What are you doing here?” Mike finally managed to ask.

“This is my gym.”

The gym was where they had met, though now the main floor was empty, save for the two rings standing in the center of the room. 

“But it’s like two am.”

Harvey rolled his eyes and turned Mike towards the stairs in the back of the room that lead up to the loft above. He held tight to Mike as they climbed the stairs. “I was getting ready to close up when I heard you screaming like a sissy.”

“That still doesn’t answer my question,” Mike grumbled. “And I didn’t sc-” he hissed in pain as Harvey’s hand pressed too hard against his ribs. “Scream like a sissy!”

“No you weren’t Mike, how silly of me. You were just laying there getting your ass kicked.”

“Not everyone beats the shit out of people for a living.”

“Don’t make it sound so crass.” Harvey sat him down on a bench and told him to stay.

The loft was set up as a training area, with multiple heavy bags, two smaller practice rings, two practice mats, and a variety of equipment Mike figured had something to do with boxing. Harvey, who was dressed in a black tank top and loose sweats, looking completely at home, returned a few moments later with a first aid kit. He lifted Mike’s chin with a finger and knelt down in front of him. 

“I couldn’t sleep,” he said simply as he started cleaning Mike’s face with an antiseptic wipe. “I figured I’d try to get some practice in.” He shushed Mike when he hissed and pulled away from the cloth, wiping down the cuts and scrapes along his jaw and the drying blood around his nose. The gash on his right cheek was starting to scab, but Mike could still feel the warm slickness of the blood.   
“But I have to wonder though, why you were here, at two in the morning, with at least five pounds of illegal drugs on you.” Mike averted his eyes from the calm gaze.

When he failed to reply, Harvey sighed. “This?” He motioned between them. “This is where you explain yourself.”

“I don’t owe you an explanation,” Mike said, hissing when Harvey pressed his thumb into the bruise on his jaw.

“I saved your ass kid.” Harvey’s voice grew low and dangerous, the way it had when he’d cornered Mike in the locker room. “Give me one good reason not to hand you over to the cops?”

He fixed Mike with a glare and waited, continuing his work cleaning and bandaging Mike’s face. He pressed a bandaid over each of the small cuts, a gauze patch over the gash on his cheek. He set to work wiping down Mike’s hands and wrapping them as well, working quietly as he waited for a response. He hands were steady, something that captivated Mike, having only seen him trembling and flushed. Mike didn’t know what to tell him. He doubted Harvey would believe the truth, but lying to him felt like a betrayal. He swallowed, the bitter taste of blood still heavy in his throat, and lowered his head.

“My grandmother is sick,” he said. Harvey’s hands stilled in their work. “She’s all I have, you know? She’s in a home, the doctors said it was best for her, but she’s getting worse and needs an increase in care. Trouble is, it costs 25,000 dollars and I have until tomorrow to get it to them or they’re moving her to a State Facility that can’t care for her.”

“So you decided to deal drugs.”

“No!” Mike said quickly. “No I... Well ok it was supposed to just be this one time. I couldn’t let her down again, not again and I tried everything.” The words came spilling out as Harvey’s hands came to rest on Mike’s biceps, holding him upright. “I tried more shifts at work, I sold a bunch of my shit, I even tried to make a deal with the landlord on my rent. I tried but...” His voice cracked.

“It wasn’t enough.”

Mike shook his head. “It wasn’t.”

“And?”

“Trevor said he had a job for me.”

Harvey made a noise of disgust. “I thought I told you to cut that dickhead off?”

“Yeah and then you fucking ignored me for three months,” Mike shouted at him. It was unfair really, he hadn’t expected Harvey to call him. He hadn’t expected anything to have changed, but he had hoped for something. “You were gone and I couldn’t do it, okay? I’m a fucking wimp so sue me.”

The harsh glare softened. “He’s the one who gave you the drugs.”

“I was going to get the 25,000 if everything went well and th-that was it. I would be off clean. He’s been dealing for almost two years. I’ve never helped, I swear. I was just... I didn’t have...” He shook his head, leaning into Harvey’s grip. “I didn’t know what else to do.”

A moment of silence passed before Harvey spoke.

“25,000?” he asked, his voice soft.

Mike could only nod.

“Stay.”

Harvey got up and left Mike alone to wallow in his failure. He stared at his bandaged, stinging hands, and fought back tears. He would not cry in front of Harvey. He had so little dignity left, but he would not cry in front of the boxer. He took a deep, steadying breath and pressed his fingers against his eyes, trying to clear the fog from his head and swallow the emotional bile fighting its way up his throat. Harvey’s shuffling footsteps met his ears as he came back to him and Mike looked up reluctantly.

A check was held out in front of him, Harvey offering it with a complex, unreadable expression. 

“No,” Mike said weakly.

“Take it,” Harvey told him.

“No,” Mike said, more firmly. “I don’t need your charity.”

“It’s not charity.”

“Yes it is. I met you once, three months ago, fucked you, and never heard from you. If this is some sort of belated payment for that, you can shove it.” Mike snapped at him, getting to his feet.

Harvey laughed at him. “First, I don’t hire hookers and second, not to offend, but that was not worth 25,000 dollars.” He took Mike’s hand and set the check in it. “This is a loan-”

“No, it’s a check I have no way of paying-”

“We need to get over this interrupting me thing.” Harvey’s smirk made Mike fall silent faster than he wanted to admit. 

“This is a loan. You’ll work for me to pay it back. I’ll take a small portion out of each paycheck and put it towards this. I have a title fight in about a month and I’ll make double this if I lose and four times that if I kick his ass, which I plan to.”

“You’re joking.”

Harvey just smiled. “You’ll be my assistant. Not my hooker, I can see you thinking that, stop it.”

“I’m not even qualified for-”

“You’ll learn.”

“I don’t-”

“Your other option is going to jail and letting your grandmother down.” Harvey tucked his hands into his pockets and shrugged, looking like he pulled that kind of shit everyday. “It’s your call, but the smart thing to do is say yes.”

Mike stared at him. “Your assistant.”

“My assistant.” There was a weight to it though, a weight in Harvey’s gaze that made Mike feel small.

It seemed too simple.

“Just take the money, Mike.”

All he could do was nod weakly.

“Good boy.” Harvey ruffled his hair. “Now let me lock up and we’ll grab some food on the way back to the condo.”

“No, it’s f-fine I can just go home.” The last thing Mike wanted was to spend the night with his future boss and do nothing but think about how he had looked spread out on the bed. 

“You just lost five pounds of your dickhead friend’s weed. Do you really think going home now is the best idea?”

Mike shook his head. Trevor deserved whatever shit he got for sending him into a set up, but Mike knew what Trevor was like when he got angry. He liked to throw punches. 

“I have a couch and a guest room,” Harvey told him. “It’s safe.”

“Thank you,” Mike said in a weak voice.

“Don’t mention it. I have a reputation to maintain.” A smile and a wink, and Mike could feel a familiar warmth working its way through his body, setting his nerves on fire. He waited while Harvey gathered his things and locked up the gym, following him out to the car. He was glad it was still the old mustang. It was something familiar that, while making it feel a little like deja vu, also helped it feel real.

“Why didn’t you come to any of the local fights?” Harvey asked as they drove.

Mike shrugged. “I couldn’t afford it mostly. Couldn’t get time off work. I kept tabs though.” He knew Harvey’s stats, his wins and losses and draws. He knew how he had improved, who he had fought, the stats of his teammates and opponents. Now though he felt like a stalker, sitting next to Harvey, able to recite any boxing related statistic from the past decade. So he left it at that.

“I would have liked to see you again.”

That seemed laughable.

“Oh really?”

Harvey frowned. “You sound unconvinced.”

“You said it wasn’t even that good.”

That earned him an eye roll. “I said it wasn’t worth 25,000 dollars. That doesn’t mean it wasn’t worth another round.”

Mike raised an eyebrow. “And I thought guys like you never went for a second round.” Most of the playboy types, from what Mike had learned over the years, didn’t. And Harvey fit that playboy description almost to a fault. Mike had seen him on TV, well dressed, gorgeous, charming enough to steal your soul, and never with the same woman twice.

“Guys like me, huh?” And that was all Harvey said.

The rest of the ride was spent in silence. They stopped by the bank to deposit the check in the 24/7 atm, grabbed food from an all night chinese place Harvey swore was the best lo mein in the city, and made it back to the condo around three.

Mike hadn’t had the chance to properly look around Harvey’s condo the last time he had been there. Being manhandled by an adrenaline flushed boxer had made it difficult. But now he was able to stand and take it all in, the high ceilings, the large windows that overlooked the glittering city. It was, Mike reasoned, as he stood at the floor to ceiling windows in Harvey’s kitchen and looked out at the city, like being on olympus, like he was something more than a pitiful man.

“Shower now or later?” Harvey asked, setting the bag of takeout on the kitchen table. 

Mike’s stomach felt empty. “Later, if that’s ok. I promise not to bleed on anything.”

Harvey just nodded and grabbed forks for them both. 

They ate in relative silence, just like the car ride. Mike felt out of place, in the grandeur of the condo. Even Harvey in his sweats looked like he belonged. It was hard to swallow his food, his teeth ached and at least one was probably loose. But he kept eating, and sipping his beer, until Harvey put his own fork down and sighed.

“I went to New Orleans,” he said after a moment.

“For a fight?” A silly question, Mike knew the answer. He had gone to fight Jonathan Clarmont, a french boxer who had gotten a little too attached to his fictional creole roots.

Harvey nodded. “I didn’t know whether it would be an easy match or not, so I went down to New Orleans to watch him train and get some practice myself. There’s a couple of fighters down there that I’ve become friends with. I stayed with them.” 

Mike nodded. “You won though, right?”

“Course I did.” He gave Mike a smile. “I just... I left almost immediately after the fight against Duncan.”

The fight where they had met.

“You spent three months in New Orleans, for one fight?”

“I went back and forth. I had some work at the boxing school here so I couldn’t stay straight through. And a few of the younger kids had some fights that I wanted to see.” Harvey shook his head and sat back in his seat. “The point is, I wasn’t ignoring you.”

“I didn’t expect anything from you,” Mike offered, ignoring Harvey’s frown. “You’re this, like, successful famous guy why would you want to bother with a one night stand or whatever?”

“Are you always this articulate?” Harvey teased, sipping his beer.

“You’ve seen Hercules?” Mike asked in disbelief.

“Who hasn’t seen Hercules? And if you say Trevor, that’s cause he’s a douche.”

“Yeah, he... he is a douche.” Mike said. He glanced at Harvey. “I’m not really angry with you.” He couldn’t be, especially now with how in debt he was to him. 

“I’d understand if you were. Most of the guys I’ve been with are.”

“So I wasn’t a one time thing? The dude thing, I mean.”

Harvey shook his head. “Keep your trap shut to the media. But no, you weren’t. I stopped worrying about my sexuality crisis back in college.”

Mike was glad for that. The last thing he wanted was to have been that one off, sexual ‘what if’ that some guys have late in their lives. He had been that way for one of his friends in high school. It had ended with Mike in the ER for a broken nose. “That’s healthy.”

Harvey snorted. “Yeah I guess it is. Counteracts my self-destructive occupation.”

He said it so frankly Mike couldn’t help but laugh. His ribs throbbed with pain when he did and it was short lived, his body doubling over the table, forehead pressed against the sleek wood. A sigh was heard and Harvey got to his feet. 

“Come on, let’s get you in the shower.”

Mike let Harvey lead him into the master bathroom, let him strip off his shirt to examine his ribs. When deemed bruised and not broken, much to their mutual relief, Harvey got him a towel and promised a change of clothes for when he was done. Then he left him.

The shower helped the soreness in his muscles, the hot jets of water easing him into a meditative state. He would worry later about how ridiculous this all was, because really, it was quite ridiculous and Mike wasn’t sure whether to be grateful for it or terrified. He would pay for Grammie’s care first thing tomorrow. Hopefully she’d be herself for a little while, give Mike something to hold onto. He’d do what Harvey asked of him, try to earn his keep, try to keep himself in control. Maybe this was their restart and this time maybe Harvey didn’t want the eager pup with a nice ass. Mike was now a charity case, not a one night stand and while that left a bitter taste in his mouth, it seemed better than going home to Trevor. Besides, it put Harvey back in his life. And nothing had really made sense since that night, three months earlier, when Mike had fallen a little bit in love, despite his best intentions. 

He shut off the water and sighed, leaning against the wet tiles.

In the silence, he was able to admit it. 

He had fallen.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mike meets Donna properly, shows off his memory, and finally gets to see Harvey in a suit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've taken a small liberty with Jessica's family life, since it seemed to fit the set up. She was trained as a boxer but never went professional, studying business law instead. She took over when her father got too sick to manage the company. 
> 
> The term Boxing School refers to the gym and who runs it. Fighters will train with certain schools and fight under their banners, as a way of bringing attention to the school and increasing membership. 
> 
> Enjoy

Harvey’s couch, much to Mike’s happiness, was probably the most comfortable thing he’d slept on in his life. He would have taken the guest room, but there had been women’s clothing in the dresser, a makeup in the guest bathroom, and the room in itself looked half lived in and the last thing Mike wanted was to sleep where Harvey spent the night with his girlfriends. So he had willingly taken the couch and the blankets Harvey had given him. 

At 6 am, on the dot, he heard Harvey’s alarm go off. He listened as Harvey moved around his room, slipped into the kitchen, back to the bedroom, and finally towards the front door. He was dressed in sweats and a t-shirt, lacing his running shoes with practiced fingers. Of course he’d be up at the crack of dawn after only getting three hours of sleep. Mike just grumbled and rolled over, waiting for him to leave. 

He didn’t hear Harvey come home again, but when he woke up around ten, Harvey was sprawled out on his bed again, face buried in his pillows. Despite the ache in his chest and the throbbing in his hands, Mike was able to pull something together for breakfast. He won the battle with Harvey’s stove, some fancy chrome machine with too many buttons and too many burners, and begged and pleaded with the coffeemaker until it had made a fresh pot of the expensive dark roast Mike had found in the pantry. 

“Wassat?” Mike smiled at the sleep heavy voice behind him. 

Harvey came shuffling out of his bedroom, sweats hung low on his hips, shirtless, his hair a blonde rat’s nest. Mike was surprised he wasn’t wide awake and alert, especially after his early morning run. But Harvey seemed more asleep than anything as he leaned into Mike and rested his head on Mike’s shoulder.

“Making breakfast.”

“Mm.”

“How do you like your eggs?” Mike tried to decipher the mumbling. “Scrambled?” Harvey nodded against his shoulder. “Ok, I’ll have them made in a moment.”

Harvey’s hands came to rest on Mike’s hips, giving them an appreciating squeeze, before they made a grab for Mike’s half filled cup of coffee. 

“Hey that’s- Ok fine, take it, you ape.” The teasing smile he got in reply made him roll his eyes, but Mike grabbed for another mug anyway as Harvey ruined his black coffee with enough cream and sugar to give Wonka a cavity. “That’s gross.”

“My house.”

“Your diabetes.”

Harvey gave a sputtering laugh and dropped into a chair at the breakfast table. He seemed so at ease it made Mike unsure. He’d only ever seen Harvey wound tight and ready for a brawl. The man resting his head on the table seemed younger, happier, his body loose and relaxed, unscarred and nothing but soft lines and gentle curves of muscle. Mike smiled to himself and finished the eggs and sausage, pulling the pre-made biscuits out of the oven. He served them onto a plate and sat it in front of Harvey, who hummed in gratitude. 

After breakfast and two cups of coffee, Harvey seemed to be his normal self again, alert and sharp, leaving Mike at the table so he could get dressed. Mike picked at the rest of his food and sipped his coffee, not sure what to do with himself.

“Don’t look so pitiful.” Harvey chidded. Mike rolled his eyes and looked over.

“Holy hell.”

Harvey was dressed like a lawyer, his fine white shirt and sleek black vest perfectly fitted to his figure. His hair was slicked back, cufflinks glinting on his wrists, emerald green tie sharp against the pristine white of his shirt. He had a suit jacket draped over his arm as he thumbed through his phone with a frown. “What?”

“You look-”

“You didn’t think I just lived in sweats all day, did you?”

Mike shrugged. “You beat people’s faces in on a daily basis. Didn’t peg you for a suit guy.”

“Yeah, well so did Al Capone and he was one well dressed sonnovabitch.”

“You did not just compare yourself to a mobster.”

Harvey chuckled. “The school I fight for, Pearson Boxing, also happens to be a massive corporation. We have schools all along the east coast, a board of directors and as their most successful enterprise,” he gave a smug grin at that, “I’ve earned my place at the grown ups table.”

Pearson Boxing, from what Mike had read, was one of the front runners in east coast boxing. They were an older school, based in New York, founded by Jackson Pearson back in 1948 and carried on by his sons. The school was currently in the command of his granddaughter, Jessica Pearson. Mike had watched an interview where Ms. Pearson had been asked whether she was ever concerned about being a woman in a man’s sport. She had smiled, a white, feral smile and Mike had never been more afraid of another human being. 

“So you like, run the school?”

“I’m on the partner’s board. Mean’s I’ve bought in to the school. And with that comes certain privileges and responsibilities.”

“Such as?”

Mike was growing fond of the exaggerated eye roll. “I’m partially in charge of our public image. Since I’m the fighter who has the most titles on my belt, I have to make sure people like us. I get final say on publicity, deal with the press, work with the legal team, stuff like that.” He pocketed his phone and slid on his jacket. “I also work with the younger generation of fighters, help train them, put teams together when they’re needed for tournaments.”

“Cool.”

“So I’m going to a partners’ meeting. You’re going to stay here until I get back. Then we’ll go by the gym and get you situated.”

Mike nodded. “Uhm.”

Harvey raised an eyebrow. “What?”

“Am I... Am I staying here again?”

Harvey considered him for a second. “That’s your choice.”

That hadn’t been the answer Mike was expecting, but he nodded anyway. “Thanks again, you know, for last night.”

Harvey just waved him off. “Save it. I’ll be back in a couple hours, don’t break anything.”

“Have a nice-” the door closed, “Day?”

With nothing else to do, Mike cleaned the kitchen. He cleared the table, washed the dishes, wiped down the stove and the counters. Once that was finished he helped himself to another shower, wincing at the sting of his cuts and the dull ache of his ribs, but was pleased the worst of the pain seemed to have subsided. He took some painkillers and settled down with the TV, promptly ignoring his phone when Trevor called him for the fifth time. 

An hour had passed when Mike heard the key in the door. He perked up, hoping Harvey had made it out of his meeting early, but instead was greeted by the redheaded woman from the locker room, Donna. She waltzed into the condo as if it was her own, dropped the shopping bags and files she was carrying by the door and slid off her shoes, as she lectured someone over the bluetooth headset she was wearing.

“No Harvey, you can’t just cancel on them again. They are patrons of the school and they give us money, which means you go, wine and dine, and make those fuckers happy, am I-” She looked up and saw Mike.

“Uhm, hi?” he offered, still sitting on the couch. 

“Harvey is there something you wanted to tell me? No? Are you sure? Nothing about a-” She rolled her eyes. “Yes there’s a damn kid sitting in your living room and...” Donna sighed. “I’m going to slip arsenic into your whiskey one day.” She hit the button on the bluetooth and ripped it out of her ear.

“Am I in trouble?” Mike asked, getting up from the couch.

Donna shook her head. “No, Harvey is, as usual.” She offered her hand. “I’m Donna. I demand morning and evening worship and sacrifices. In exchange your life is simple.” Mike stared at her until she broke out laughing. “I’m kidding. Okay half kidding.”

“You’re Harvey’s PA?”

“I’m Harvey’s brain, to be honest, but yes, to be technical, I am,” Donna said and went to the kitchen, pouring herself a glass of orange juice from the fridge. “And apparently you’ll be doing the grunt work for me from here on out.”

“The grunt work?”

“Hands on stuff. You’ll probably end up in the ring with him, I mean. He doesn’t like it when I climb up, he worries I’ll get hurt, which is ridiculous, but still.” She leaned against the kitchen counters. “You’ll probably do that, help him in training, run errands I don’t feel like running.”

“Great.”

“Hey it’s better than jail time.”

“What? Did Harvey-” Mike started to say in a panic, but Donna held up a hand.

“I’m Donna. I know.”

“Oh,” Mike managed, anxious under Donna’s calculating stare.

She softened. “Look kid, there’s one thing you’ll learn about this business. Everyone here, everyone you’ll meet, has made mistakes. And this,” she waved to the air, indicating the lifestyle Mike was suddenly thrust into, “is a world built on second chances.”

“That apply to you and Harvey as well?”

Donna gave him a small smile. “More than you’d ever expect.”

The two of them settled down to talk, a fresh pot of coffee shared between them. Donna wanted to know about his grandmother, his parents, his upbringing. She told him it was for security purposes but he figured she just needed to quell any rumors that might arise before they had the chance to. She asked about Trevor, and the drugs, and why Mike, whom she deemed fairly intelligent, hadn’t completed College. when he told her about Trevor and the math exam incident, she was scowling.

“You really need to cut him loose.” She said in a tone that reminded him of Harvey.

“I know.”

“Has Harvey banned you from interacting with him yet?”

“No?”

Donna nodded. “He will soon enough.” The she paused. “Wait, how did you memorize an exam that had almost 100 complex math equations?”

Mike shrugged. “I have a good memory.”

“So do I and I can’t do that.”

“It just comes natural to me.” He picked at the bandages on his hands. “Always has.”

Donna seemed unamused. She pulled out a list of statistics, the page littered with numbers. “Read that.”

Mike skimmed the paper, reading it once, twice for good measure, three times to make Donna think he had to work for it. Then he handed it back to her. 

“Recite them.” She ordered. “Down to the very last comma on the page.”

“I can’t do that.”

“Why not?”

“There’s no commas on the page.”

After a quick review of the page, Donna beamed at him. 

 

When Harvey finally returned home and Donna broke the news of her new found discovery, however, he just seemed confused.

“He has a what-now?” he asked, pulling off his vest and loosening his tie.

“Eidetic Memory, Harvey.”

“Is it contagious?”

“Don’t be a dick.”

Mike laughed. “I means anything I read I remember and anything read I understand. I could list the stats of every golden gloves champion, from every weight class, for the last ten years, if you needed me to.”

“Sure you could.” Harvey said.

Donna rolled her eyes. “Mike grab a piece of paper and write them down.”

“All of them?”

“All of them.”

“Oh for pete’s sake, Donna,” Harvey whined. “We need to get going we-”

“Stow it.”

Ten minutes later Mike handed Harvey the paper and Harvey sat down at his laptop to check Mike’s numbers. The only sounds were his occasional clicking and their steady breathing, as the furrow in Harvey’s brow depended. Finally, he looked up at Mike in shock.

“How did you-”

“Eidetic Memory,” Mike said 

Harvey looked back at the paper. “Holy shit, kid.”

“Thanks.”

“You thinking what I’m thinking, Harvey?” Donna asked, leaning on his shoulder. She was smiling, and Mike began to worry. 

Harvey was quiet for a moment. Then a shark-like grin spread across his face. “He’s our goddamn ace.”

“I’m your what?”

“Donna, call Jessica for me, tell her to meet us at the Gym.” Harvey said and Donna stepped out onto the balcony to make the call.

“I’m your what?” Mike repeated as Harvey got up from his seat and pulled off his tie.

Harvey motioned for Mike to follow him. “Our Ace. Every team has one member who does nothing but manage statistics and data. They know everything about their team, about their opponents, about possible opponents, what strategies are best used.” Harvey led them into his bedroom. “They’re like the team’s super computer.”

“And I’m going to be your Ace?”

The look on Harvey’s face made Mike swallow thickly. It was a look of pride, of awe, and of want, all on display for Mike to see. Harvey’s dark eyes were framed by thin crinkling lines that made him look mischievous and young, and his smile was predatory as he slide out of his dress shirt.  
“Mike, your memory is astounding. With that gift, I’m shocked you aren’t finishing Law School or Medical School right now.” He grabbed for a t-shirt. “You’re still my assistant, that won’t change, but I’m not going to waste something as fantastic as this on errands and waterboy duty.”

No one had ever called it fantastic before. 

“You... You don’t think it’s freaky?” he asked, looking away as Harvey changed into an old pair of jeans. 

“Why would I think it’s freaky, Mike?”

“It’s just...” Everyone had? Everyone since he’d been a kid had thought his memory was some weird sort of mutation. Kids had picked on him for it, mocked him on the playground and in the locker rooms. Girls had refused to talk to him because he was the weird kid. Teachers never took him seriously because he had a genetic cheat code. Trevor has seen it as a get rich quick scheme, or a way to get out of doing his own work, not as something he actually valued. To think that Harvey, a practical stranger, was willing to give him an important job because of it, well it just didn’t make sense.

“Mike?” Harvey was standing in front of him, wearing a frown, his eyes scanning Mike’s face. 

“No one’s called it fantastic before.” He looked away, flushing under Harvey’s focused gaze. He winced when Harvey’s hand cupped his cheek and made him meet his eyes. His hand was warm and calloused, gentle as he rubbed his thumb over Mike’s healing cheek, and Mike found himself leaning into it with a sigh. 

“Do you think I would lie to you?” Harvey asked in a low voice. Mike shook his head, pressing his face further into Harvey’s hand. The Boxer smiled. “Good. I’m not lying. It’s a gift and I’d like you to use it.”

“Okay.”

Harvey’s thumb pressed against Mike’s bottom lip and he smiled. “Good boy.”

The moment was ended when Donna called for them. Harvey’s hand left Mike’s cheek and he fought back the disappointment he felt. 

“What?” Harvey shouted back, rolling his eyes.

“Jessica can’t come down to the gym till tomorrow,” Donna said, poking her head in the door. “I said that was fine. Gives us time to get the pup set up.”

Harvey nodded. “Fine. Grab some of the files though, I want him to review them when we get to the gym.” He looked to Mike. “Ready to get started?”

Mike nodded and Harvey slung his arm around his shoulders, pulling him along as they followed Donna out the door.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mike's first week of work is harder than he expected, meeting the Jessica Pearson of Pearson Boxing not having been on his To-do list. And being surrounded by walking egos all day wasn't making life any easier.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter features several OCs: Gareth, Sam, Melinda, Jackson, Ben and Rocky. These four characters will have a reoccurring presence, since I needed to fill Harvey's boxing team. Greg and Kyle are the douchey associates, if everyone remembers, and we finally meet the crown princess, Rachel, who I'm very excited to be writing. 
> 
> Rocky, for those who are confused, is an FTM-trans kid, who is trying to earn the right to fight in the men's division instead of the women's. 
> 
> If you have any questions let me know :)
> 
> Enjoy

The routine of working at the gym was like a drug. It provided a stability Mike hadn’t known in years, not since high school when he knew what to expect when he woke up and when he came home. He had called his old boss, not bothering to give two week notice, and after a quick unemotional goodbye, he belonged to Harvey. In the beginning, it was difficult. The fighters, ten who had made the pros and a large handful of students, were temperamental on a good day. Some were nothing but walking egos. Others were street kids with chips on their shoulders. All of them had something to prove and Mike, The New Kid, was just another body in their way.

He did most of his work in the office, located in the far corner of the loft. Harvey had helped him clean and organize it so he could work better, the large windows overlooking the hudson. Mike could watch the Brooklyn ferries sputter past while he worked. He’d spend hours pouring over statistics and data gathered from fights, making notes on what certain fighters needed to work on and what others had done well. Having to be the one to correct them made him unpopular with a few of the egos, Greg and Kyle especially. They were both kids from wealthier families who had started boxing as a pass time and now, with the resurgence of interest in the sport, and the growth of the MMA practice, thought they could make it big with a bit of practice. When Harvey wasn’t around they and a few others liked to torment him, but Mike was used to their type. He learned to keep his head down when the situation called for it.

The street kids were probably the ones Mike liked most. Harvey seemed to have a soft spot for them too, if his first week there was anything to go by. Harvey, when he took the time to coach, paid them the most attention, working them through drills and sparring with them until they were confident in what they had learned.

The street kids, as Donna had explained, were a mix of kids whom Jessica and Harvey had legitimately taken off the street and kids who had applied for a scholarship. The scholarship kids had showed enough promise that they were given a free ride and membership to the school, with the only condition being 5-10 years minimum employment in either the corporate setting of Pearson Boxing, or in the ring. The rest were part of a program Jessica’s father had started, where kids from poor families or homeless youth could enroll in the school, live in one of the apartment complexes Jessica had bought and redesigned as a dorm for her fighters-in-training, and eventually make a career for themselves. Most ended up going to school and working, rather than taking up boxing professionally. Donna hinted that Harvey’s soft spot for them spawned from being the first street kid Jessica had brought in, but Mike had trouble picturing Harvey as a scrappy youth living on the street.

Mike’s first week of work was hectic. He slept on Harvey’s couch every night, too afraid to face Trevor and too comfortable to leave, slept while Harvey went on his morning run, and followed him to the Gym. There he stayed until Donna found him around lunch, herding him out of the office and out to get some fresh, smoggy, city air. They’d grab sandwiches to go and sit to watch the fighters train while they ate. Donna liked to taunt some of the rude ones with her food. Making weight was a big deal, Mike learned, and not eating, or drastic dieting was common.

He’d hole himself back up in his office after lunch and stay there until Harvey came to find him. The man was always exhausted when he dropped into the spare office chair, his hair a mess, shirt soaked with sweat, if he was wearing a shirt, and his shoulders slumped with a day spent training, being knocked in the jaw, punched in the gut, and all kinds of unfortunate things Mike didn’t envy. They’d chat lightly about their day, how much reading Mike had gotten done, how Harvey’s training had gone. Then they’d pack their things and trek back to the condo, gorge themselves on take out, and crash.

Despite himself, Mike was happy.

Mike met Jessica Pearson on his fifth day of work. Their initial meeting had been canceled due to a patron requiring her attention. She had promised a visit later in the week, but never told them when.

“Mike are you-” Harvey stuck his head into the office. Mike looked up, highlighter cap wedged between his lips, and smiled. “What are you doing?”

Piled on Mike’s desk was a stack of booklets, each one ranging from fifty to two hundred pages. He spit out the highlighter cap and grabbed the first booklet on the stack, the one with Harvey’s name typed across the cover, handing it to Harvey with a grin.

“It’s your playbook,” He said.

“My playbook,” Harvey repeated, taking the booklet and leafing through it. Mike had worked hardest on his, waiting until Harvey had finally gone to bed each night before setting to work on it. It was all the data Mike had collected, Harvey’s wins, his losses, the improvements he had made and improvements he still needed to make. Mike had compiled all the information Harvey might need in one book, keeping him from constantly having to search for it on his own, or getting Donna or Mike to help him.

Harvey stared at him. “How many of these did you make?”

Mike nodded to the pile. “One for each of you pros. The books for the trainees are still in the works, since they don’t have enough experience to really build up a complex training regiment.”

“You... I hired you five days ago,” Harvey said, looking back at his own book.

“I know.”

“How have you had time to do all this?”

“I finished the readings you gave me in about a day and a half.” Saturday morning he had wrapped up the last brief Harvey had given him. “After that I went through the films you guys have, of your fights. I made notes, tried to apply what your briefs taught me to that.”

“And you just felt compelled to make a novel length book for each of us.”

Mike laughed. “You guys already had all the information, you just hadn’t consolidated it. I made some changes sure, based on my observations and readings, but it was really just a matter of organizing everything.”

Harvey stared at him.

“I’m trying to earn my keep, ok?” Mike said, fidgeting in his seat. “You’ve stuck out your neck for me, I’m just trying to, you know-”

“I could kiss you.”

Now it was Mike’s turn to stare. “What?”

“Are those finished?” Harvey asked like he hadn’t heard the question. “The stack is the finished ones?”

“Y-yeah?”

“Great. Grab them and come with me.”

Mike scrambled to follow, gathering the books in his arms and following Harvey out onto the practice floor. The afternoon crowd had filtered in, Greg on the heavy bag with Kenneth, Julien and his sister Margie working on the practice mat. Only half of the professional fighters were there. Gareth was in LA for a fight, Melinda was on leave for a leg injury, and Jackson and Ben were part of the morning group. Harvey climbed into the free practice ring with ease, Mike stumbling trying to following him.

“Greg, Kyle, Rocky, Sam, Rachel,” Harvey called, “C’mere.”

Greg left the heavy bag, Kyle left his weights, Sam made sure someone was watching the younger fighter he was working with, and Rachel and Rocky stopped sparring in the other ring. They gathered around Harvey and Mike, Greg regarding Mike with his usual expression of disgust, Kyle rolling his eyes when he saw the stack of books in Mike’s arms.

Sam was Harvey’s age, or close to it, one of the older fighters who helped run the school. He was a heavyweight, massive in size and built like a tank, not an ounce of fat on him. He easily weighed 300 lbs when he wasn’t working towards weight, if Mike’s numbers were right, and they were. But he had a kind face and was good with the beginners, never too harsh or critical the way Harvey could be. He had a title fight coming up, two nights after Harvey’s, and Mike noted the slight change in his stance. He was favoring his left side, which meant his leg was bothering him. He grabbed the pen tucked behind his ear and shuffled through the pile for Sam’s book. He sat down and flipped to the blank pages at the end, that he had placed there for future notes, and started scribbling as Harvey spoke, ignoring the weird looks he was getting from the others.

“Okay, you all have met Mike. He’s our resident nerd who is helping us with the numbers and things you all don’t like thinking about,” Harvey explained. He held up his own book. “While Mike was reviewing our stats, he was kind enough to go through and compile a book for each of you.”

“Why?” Kyle asked with an annoyed tone.

“Because you still pull your left handed punches when someone is swinging at your face and you’re gonna either break your nose, lose horribly, or both,” Mike answered, tucking his pen back behind his ear and looking up. He tried not to preen at the fond smile Harvey was giving him.

“I don’t fucking pull my-”

“Yes you do,” replied Harvey, Sam and Rachel. Kyle fell silent.

“You each have one,” Mike said, still sitting by Harvey’s feet. He handed them out. “I hope they’re helpful. There’s space in the back for new notes and I can always rebind them if we add to them.”

“Damn, kid,” Sam said, taking his with a nod of thanks. “You’ve outdone yourself.”

“Just trying to help.”

“I’m giving you homework.” Harvey said. “Spend the next couple of days studying these, actually studying them. You two jokers decide not to, I’m sticking you in the ring with Rocky.” he added, sending a threatening glare towards Greg and Kyle. They nodded quickly with hesitant glances at Rocky, who was leaning against Rachel and skimming his own book.

Rocky, or Roxanne as his parents had named him, was the gym’s favorite delinquent. His temper flared at the worst possible moments and he often pushed himself past his own limits, leading to injuries and a delay in his training. He was a fast learner though and often let loose in the ring, disregarding strategy for power. Harvey had brought him in off the street and was putting a lot of effort into making him professional material. He was maybe a year away from his first professional fight, through there was the issue of which division he’d fight in.

Rachel was one of the few fighters Rocky worked well with. She was young, about Mike’s age, and one of the only women in Pearson Boxing’s MMA training program. Since MMA was banned in New York, she spent several days a week down in Jersey, training at the MMA gym Jessica had set up three years prior. When she wasn’t there, she was at Harvey’s side, studying everything he did and committing it to memory. She was a favorite for the women’s lightweight title, though that was at least half a year away. Out of everyone, she acted like she had the most to prove. Mike figured it was just part of the package; being beautiful and trying to make a name for herself in an often times sexist sport meant making enemies.

She smiled down at Mike. “You really did outdo yourself, Mike. Thank you.”

“No problem Rachel. I made a note about your right hook, on page 62. It’s the only thing that I’ve noticed you really need work on,” he told her.

“Yeah, your right hook is kinda weak,” Rocky offered.

“Yours is no better.”

“Point is,” Harvey said, cutting off the bickering, “You’re going to read these back to front and next monday we start incorporating it into training. Any questions?”

“What’s with the pow-wow, Harvey? Are you planning to commit mutiny?” An amused voice asked.

Mike looked back over his shoulder. Ms. Pearson was making her way towards them, wrapped in a delicate white dress and wearing heels that made her stand two inches over Harvey, at least. Donna was at her side, trying to contain her amusement at catching Harvey off guard. He scowled at her, before flashing Ms. Pearson a smile.

“No, the mutiny isn’t until next week,” He said, lifting the ropes so she could climb up and join them. She did so with such grace, not even the smallest stumble, that Mike had to stare and wonder if she had practiced when they weren’t there.

“Afternoon Ms. Pearson,” Rachel greeted, Rocky ducking his head to avoid eye contact. It was his nervous habit, Mike had learned.

“Rachel, I’m glad the bruises on your jaw have healed up properly,” Ms. Pearson said, touching Rachel’s cheek. “Goddamn that girl for trying to sneak brass knuckles into the prelims.”

“I’m alright, Ma’am,” Rachel assured her, and she smiled.

“Alright then.” She looked to Harvey. “Why the pow-wow?”

She was imposing and beautiful. Mike’s mouth went dry as he stared up at her, still seated at Harvey’s feet. Her dark hair was perfectly curled, makeup flawless, not that she really needed it. She was in her forties, but she still held the youth of a much younger woman and carried an air of formidable strength about her. She stood in front of Harvey, hands on her hips, head cocked to the side with a teasing smile Mike was sure she reserved only for him.

Harvey just grinned back and handed her his booklet.

“What am I looking at, Harvey?” she asked, unamused.

“Just read it.”

She did, skimming through the first few pages. Harvey’s hand came to rest on the top of Mike’s head and Mike heard Rocky giggle at the gesture. He must have looked like a dog, sitting at his master’s feet. at least he didn’t close his eyes and lean into the touch like he wanted to. He waited, looking up at Ms. Pearson, waiting for her judgement and hoping it wouldn’t be some sort of damnation.

“Who wrote this?” she asked, looking up at Harvey.

“The New Kid,” Greg said, nodding at Mike.

She looked down at Mike and arched an eyebrow. “So you’re the pup Harvey brought in without asking me.”

“I did ask you,” Harvey argued.

“After you had already given him the contract.”

“That still counts as asking.”

“I’m sorry if it’s an inconvenience, ma’am,” Mike said, quickly getting to his feet.

Ms. Pearson smiled. “It would be, but this,” she nodded to the book, “is saying otherwise.”

“It is?”

“It is. What inspired you to go this in depth, Mike?”

He didn’t actually know. Until a week ago he hadn’t given two shits about boxing statistics or how fighters could improve. But if he could help Harvey win his title fight, help him eliminate anything his opponent could use against him, then maybe he could make up for his ever growing ledger of mistakes.

“Trying to earn my keep, ma’am.” He said.

She regarded him for a moment, eyes narrowed. Mike felt small in her presence, insignificant, and yet, at the same time, special for getting to look her in the eye. She smiled at him and handed the book back to Harvey.

“Consider it earned, Kid. And please, call me Jessica,” She offered her hand for Mike to shake and he wasn’t surprised at the firmness of her grip. “You do realize,” she added, looking to the others. “That this means there’s very little excuse for failure in the coming future?”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Sam and Harvey are still running the team, since Melinda is out of commission for a while. Press conferences for the upcoming fight will be in two weeks, Harvey. Sam yours are the same night. We’ll have a bit of a fundraiser too, try to get some good press, get our name back out into the forefronts of everyone’s mind. How ready are you Harvey?”

He shrugged. “I’ll kick his ass.”

“Damn right you will. I will not be losing to Hardman’s wuss of a fighter.” Jessica crossed her arms over her chest. “Don’t pull that shit with making weight again. I’d like to avoid a trip to the ER this time.”

Mike frowned, looking to Harvey for an explanation, but his expression was closed off. “Won’t be an issue Jessica.”

“Same goes for you Sam. You can make 250 without hurting yourself.”

“Yes, Ma’am.” Sam replied.

“Good.” She let out a slow breath. “Anything else I should know about?”

“I’ll need to go over some of the budget issues with you, but that can wait till next week,” Harvey said. “I’ve given them homework for the weekend and we’ll start incorporating Mike’s data come Monday.”

“You have a meeting with Giles on Monday.”

“I haven’t forgotten.”

“Ms. Pearson, I was wondering if I could talk with you about the Jersey Gym?” Rachel asked. “It’s nothing urgent, I just had some few ideas that might bring in some new faces.”

Jessica nodded. “Then grab your things and come with me, we can talk over lunch. That is if Harvey says you’ve done enough for the day.” Harvey nodded and Rachel beamed, going to grab her things. “Oh and Rocky, you have a meeting with Louis this Saturday.” Rocky looked nervous. “Don’t make that face, Louis isn’t that bad.”

“Louis?” Mike asked Harvey.

“Head of the legal team.”

“Ah.”

“I’m coming with you, Rocky.” Harvey said and Mike could see the anxiety leave Rocky’s thin frame. “Louis thinks he may have found us a loophole or two, so we’ll see if it’s anything we can work with.”

“Yes, sir.”

Jessica smiled. “Well, if there isn’t anything pressing, I’m going to be on my way. Harvey send Rachel out to the car when she’s ready. And next time you want to adopt a puppy,” she glanced at Mike, “tell me first. Understood?”

“Perfectly.”

She rolled her eyes at him. “Have a good day everyone.”

When she was out of the ring and making her way to the stairs, Harvey sighed and turned back to the others. “Thank you for behaving.”

“You’re the trouble child, Harvey.”

“Bite me, Sam.”

“Is there anything else?” Kyle asked. “I was hoping to get a few more reps in before heading out.”

“No that’s it. Just read the thing, ok? I wasn’t kidding about tossing you into the ring with Rocky.” Harvey waved him off.

“Aye, aye, Captain.” Greg and Kyle left the ring, muttering to each other. Sam thanked Mike again for the book and went back to helping the group of students who were working the heavy bag, leaving Rocky standing awkwardly in the corner of the ring.

“You ok kiddo?” Harvey asked.

“Could you spar with me?” Rocky asked, shifting his weight from foot to foot. “Rachel and I were supposed to, uh, you know, practice more, but she uh-”

“Is it a good idea?” Mike asked. “He’s like twice your weight at least.”

Rocky was thin in comparison to Harvey, lean muscle and sharp angles, barely reaching Harvey’s shoulder with his 5’2” stature. His file said he was trying to put on weight, just to maintain a healthy baseline. Barely making 125, he had very little on Harvey’s natural 174. At the question though, Rocky bristled, fixing Mike with a glare, puffing out his chest to make himself more impressive.

“I’ve taken him before,” he snapped.

“Easy,” Harvey soothed. “Mike’s just being careful. You aren’t far from your first fight and the last thing we need is you getting broken in training.”

“Sorry,” Rocky muttered.

“Grab your running shoes, we’ll go for a run, get some fresh air and then spar when we get back.” And he was off like a shot, with a giddy smile on his face.

“I don’t think he likes me much,” Mike said as Harvey led them back to the office.

“He does like you. He’s just not good at figuring out what’s an attack and what’s concern.” Harvey dropped into his usual chair once they were inside. “Kyle and Greg on the other hand, now they can’t stand you.”

“Yeah they make that clear.” Mike sat on his desk and sighed, rubbing at his short hair.

“Tired?”

“Long week,” Mike said, stretching. “And I think your couch is finally getting tired of me.”

“I can drive you back to your place tonight, if you want.”

Mike didn’t really want to go back to his apartment, but in their week together, Harvey hadn’t given even the slightest hint that he wanted Mike in any other capacity than friend and coworker. It seemed weird to continue hoboing on Harvey’s couch when it didn’t involve something more.

“Sure, that’d be good.”

There was a light rapping on the door. “Boss?” Rocky poked his head in.

“You ready?” He nodded and Harvey got up. “Alright. Mike keep at whatever it is you’re working on. I’ll grab you at the end of the day.”

“See you.” Rocky said with a small wave, before following Harvey out of the office.

Mike said goodbye and let the office fall silent, the only noise the sound of the training taking place outside.

*

By the time Mike wrapped up his day’s work, a summary of each trainee and some papers he wanted to get to Jessica, various ledgers and budgets claims that might make Harvey’s meeting with her smoother, it was well past sundown and the gym outside his door was silent. He stretched and gathered his things, hoping Harvey hadn’t forgotten about him and locked up already.

He hadn’t.

Mike found him at one of the heavy bags, stripped down to his shorts and bare feet, hands wrapped in grappling gloves that barely covered his knuckles. The rest of the gym was deserted, the lights down on the main floor shut off, the equipment stored away, the mats cleaned. There was only Harvey, bathed in the florescent lights, driving his fists into the bag in a steady rhythm. His skin was flushed and slick with sweat, the way it had been when Mike had first seen him. His tattoos, a treble clef on his left forearm, the initials G.S. under his collar bone, the geeky Starfleet insignia Mike hadn’t noticed before, that rested over his heart, were all stark against his skin, black ink harsh against the rose hue. His hair was unruly, sticking to his sweaty forehead, bright and golden in the unnatural light.

He was stunning, the way his muscles shifted in his back, the twist of his arms, stretch and recoil of his biceps and triceps, the light shuffling of his feet, never staying in the same place twice. The bag responded to his strikes with a heavy thud, creaking as it swung on the chain holding it in place. Mike tried to imagine it was fighting back, that Harvey was dodging vicious right hooks and jabs as he shifted from side to side and ducked his head. But the enemy he was facing was unknown to Mike, and all he could do was stand there, leaning against the closest ring, and watch him with a sobering feeling of awe building in his chest.

When his strikes finally slowed, and Harvey straightened up to his full height, Mike felt his mouth grow dry. The rush of adrenaline wasn’t a factor this time, he knew that, but the Harvey that stood before him was nothing but raw power on display. Whatever discipline he had taught himself, whatever cool demeanor he tried to carry, it had been lost in the furious motion, leaving him breathing heavily, body humming with the high that came with finally letting go.

“You need me to hold the bag?” Mike asked.

Harvey glanced over at him and grinned. “Sure why not.”

“Don’t hit me. I need my pretty face.”

“Why? You got a date?” the boxer teased as Mike came around and gripped the bag tightly.

“No, but I’m hoping.”

The first hit to the bag made him stumble. He regained his footing, drove his heels into the floor, and steadied himself for the rest of the set.

“Maybe... Maybe should give you more work, if you think you have time for dating,” Harvey said, breathing heavily again.

“I’m already doing more work than you’re giving me, dude.”

“Don’t,” a particularly vicious left gab shook Mike to the core. “Call me dude.”

Mike gave him a teasing smile. “Dude.”

“Don’t push it, pup.”

“Duuuuuuude,” Mike said, putting on his best surfer bro voice. “Bring your left foot in a few inches, dude.”

“I will hit you accidentally,” Harvey warned, but he adjusted his feet.

“You’d hit this pretty face?”

Harvey just laughed and finished his set, driving his fists into the bag as hard as he could before letting up. Mike let go of the bag and it swung towards Harvey in slow lazy circles. They stood there, Harvey trying to bring his heart rate down with slow, deep breaths, Mike just taking the time to soak in the sight.

“I wouldn’t,” Harvey said after a moment.

“Wouldn’t what?”

“Hit you.” He swallowed thickly and grabbed for his water. “I’d never hit you.”

“Unless we were sparring?” Mike offered, trying not to read into the severity in Harvey’s voice.

He shrugged. “Even then I’d pull punches.”

“Why?”

The look Harvey gave him sent a chill down to Mike’s toes. “Why do you think?”

“Cause... I work for you?” The raised eyebrow made him chuckle. “Ok no, because... Donna would kill you?”

“She would but that’s not-” Harvey sighed. “Forget it.”

“No, what is it?” he grabbed Harvey’s arm as he tried to turn away. “You can’t start that conversation and leave it open ended like that, Harvey.”

“Forget it, Mike.” He started walking away, leaving Mike next to the bag, emotions warring in his head. Were they finally going to talk about it? Was that what was supposed to happen? Was the week spent in an awkward half friendship finally going to end?

“I still think about it,” he offered. Harvey froze, fingers pausing in their attempts to pull off his gloves. “I do. All the time actually, which I figured would make this,” he gestured to the gym as a whole, “really damn difficult. But you pretending like it didn’t happen is actually a big help.”

Harvey turned around and gave up on his gloves. “What do you want me to say Mike?”

“That you...” Mike didn’t actually know what he wanted. No that wasn’t true. He knew exactly what he wanted Harvey to do. He wanted him to let go, kiss him until Mike couldn’t breathe, touch him until all Mike’s skin could remember was his touch. He hadn’t gotten laid in three months, hadn’t stopped thinking about Harvey. Be it consciously or unconsciously he had been letting Harvey into his life since that night, letting him fill the empty crevices and voids in Mike’s life. He hadn’t even realized it.

But now, standing in front of him, he did.

“That you want me,” he said simply. “The way you did three months, two weeks, and five days ago.”

Harvey nodded, pulling off his gloves. His hands were shaking again, but not with adrenaline. Maybe, Mike thought absently, it was from nerves. Maybe Harvey was as anxious about the elephant in the room as he was. He stayed quiet as Harvey dropped his gloves and stepped towards him, eyes dark. Harvey had sworn never to hit him, not moments before, but that initial fear still rose up in Mike’s chest and he fought the urge to step away.

“This,” he said in a low voice, stopping a few inches away. “Is supposed to be your second chance, Mike. That means, everything you used to be tied to can’t be a factor anymore. I fall into that category.”

“But I-” Harvey pressed a finger to Mike’s lips.

“You and I met because you made a mistake. I’m not saying you and I were a mistake, but this is your chance not to make those choices again. You deserve a chance to do well in your job, and having your boss feeling you up at any given moment isn’t going to help those chances.”

“And what if that’s what I want?” Mike challenged, pushing Harvey’s hand away from his mouth.

“Then we do it right.”

“What the hell does that even-”

Harvey’s hands came to hold Mike’s face and he was silenced with a kiss. It was nothing like their first round, which had been desperate and needy. Harvey kissed him like he had all the time in the world, ignoring the whimpers he drew from Mike as he worked his way into his mouth. Mike clung to him, fingers biting into Harvey’s sides. It was perfect, surrounded by the cavernous silence of the gym, Harvey filling his senses, kissing him sweetly, teasing his tongue, hands cupping Mike’s jaw and gripping the hair at the base of his neck. He begged god, or whoever was listening, to let him stay in that moment. It was all he needed.

He was dazed when Harvey finally pulled back. The boxer’s eyes were dark, pupils blown, his lips swollen from Mike’s teeth. He shushed the needy sound Mike made, held him back when he tried to lean in for more.

“It means that’s all you’re getting tonight, Mike.” he added a teasing smile and Mike’s stomach clench with want.

“You’re an asshole,” Mike breathed out.

“So I’m told.”

“Does this mean... does this mean we’re...”

“We’ll get dinner this Saturday. Make it official or whatever.” Harvey rested his forehead against Mike’s. “Does that work?”

“Yes.”

“Good.”

“Harvey?”

“Hm?”

“If you don’t kiss me again, I’m going to dick punch you.”

Harvey laughed and moved them, pressed Mike against the nearest wall. “Wouldn’t want that, now would we?”

Mike just hummed against Harvey’s lips as he kissed him, drowning himself in the feeling of large hands on his hips, slick lips against his, and the panicked pulse under his fingertips.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mike hadn't realized how hard cutting off Trevor would be, but he had been right in thinking it wouldn't happen without fists and bloody noses. 
> 
> And someone unwelcome pays a visit to the gym.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Introducing the antagonist, kinda, i'm not quite sure how to approach it at the moment but he's icky as icky can be.
> 
> Trevor will be back later in the story and it won't be to hurt Mike, I promise. I'm still rooting for the kid, really, hoping he turns things around. 
> 
> Feel free to comment with questions. This wasn't really beta'd due to finals and it being posted at 3 am.
> 
> please enjoy never the less.

Harvey dropped Mike off at his place, just like he said he would, with nothing more than a sweet kiss at his apartment door. He had tried to argue with him, ask for just a little more, explain that the three months and two weeks was technically enough time to decide if this was a good idea, but Harvey wasn’t swayed. Which left Mike with nothing to do but go to bed, horny and too exhausted to jack off.

He was awoken by a text from Donna, telling him to take the day. Harvey would be in meetings and the gym wouldn’t be too busy. So Mike rolled over a slept till noon, trying to quell the uneasy feeling in his stomach at being in an empty apartment. It was strange, even though he had been living alone for years. The sudden absence of something comforting made the shoebox of an apartment feel cavernous and cold, much like it had when Trevor had moved out, when Mike was left alone again. He had become accustomed to the feeling, the empty ache in his chest when he remembered he didn’t have anyone to share breakfast with, or who would care if he even got out of bed. Having Harvey around had at least given him someone to notice if he was still breathing.

You’re breathing, he told himself, that means you can get up.

He did, wandering aimlessly through his apartment to find something to eat. The cupboards were more or less empty, two lonely eggs and half a carton of milk keeping his fridge from being completely hopeless. He didn’t have the money to grab groceries yet, pay day wasn’t till next Wednesday according to Donna. So he settled for the eggs and some flavorless tea. When that was finished and the dishes had been cleaned and Mike was standing in the middle of his living room in his ill-fitting boxers, he realized that, without a job to go to, he didn’t have anything to occupy him. He wouldn’t see Grammie until Saturday, since the doctors said keeping routine helped with her regression. Trevor wasn’t exactly an option, and seeing Jenny meant seeing Trevor. He grabbed for his phone and finally listened to the 6 voicemails and read the 22 texts from Trevor, all of which could more or less be summarized by “mike i hope you’re dead because if you aren’t we both will be call me”. Mike purposefully ignored the latter request and shut off his phone.

With nothing else to do, Mike cleaned.

He cleaned the apartment from top to bottom, scrubbing the bathroom tile until the scent of lemon and chemicals seemed permanent. The two weeks worth of laundry was finally done, the fridge was cleaned, bookshelf was dusted and completely reorganized in alphabetical order. He went through his clothes, threw out whatever was too ragged or too small, put the clean clothes back in his drawers and hung his only suit properly inside his closet.

When the air in the apartment smelled like cleaning chemicals, burning Mike’s nose, and there was nothing left to clean or organize or rearrange, he gathered up his stash and sat himself down in front of the toilet, carefully dumping each little bag and unraveling each joint until he was left with just one little plastic pouch resting in his hand. It should have been easy, just dumping it like the others, but maybe it was sentiment, or nostalgia, or the slowly building desire to light up a joint and just let the world go silent for a while, that made it difficult. He sat there, cross legged on the cold tile floor, and stared at the little bag, until the sound of a key in the lock of his front door startled him back to reality.

“Jesus, who let a meth head in here?”

Mike hadn’t realized Trevor still had a key. He took a slow, steadying breath, deep enough that his still tender ribs ached from the effort, and got to his feet, leaving the bag on the sink counter. He listened to Trevor moving about his apartment, looking for something, muttering to himself.

“If you’re looking for cash, there isn’t any,” Mike said, leaning against the door frame.

Trevor jumped, dropping the books he’d pulled off Mike’s shelf. “Fucking-”

“Yeah I’m alive. Thanks so much for that whole set up, by the way.” Mike couldn’t help the bitterness in his voice. Now that Trevor was staring at him in shock, tangible and much less intimidating than the version nestled in Mike’s head, it was easy to be angry. “Got to love walking into a bar full of cops.”

“Mike,” it was pleading and it made Mike’s chest ache. “I didn’t know. You have to believe me man, I didn’t fucking know, ok?”

“Sure you didn’t.”

Trevor looked hurt. “Where... I thought they... Did you get arrested?”

“No I got away from the cops and walked right into your client, who just happened to be accompanied by five armed thugs.”

“Oh shit, man.”

“Yeah you think about how well that probably went.” He reveled in the sheepish look Trevor gave him, glad to know there was at least a little bit of decency left in him to feel guilty.

“I thought the cops had gotten you man. I was keeping tabs on the jails but nothing came up and I just... fuck man are you ok?” Trevor’s voice wavered and Mike’s anger faltered. He let his friend pull him tight into his arms, let Trevor hold him the way he used to, and fought every desire to curl into him, press his face into Trevor’s shirt and never let him go. Had it been any other day, he would have.

But this needed to be different.

He let Trevor squeeze him, stepped out of reach when he was released, and took another deep breath, keeping himself in check. “What do you want, Trevor?”

Trevor laughed, a weak and helpless sound. “I was worried, Mike. You just fucking vanished and I wasn’t sure if you were dead or what, man.” He ran a hand through his hair. “What happened?”

“I got jumped. This asshole saved my life. I’ve been staying... Staying with him the past few days.” Mike figured lying wasn’t worth it. Might as well come clean.

“But you got the deal done?”

Of course that would be his next question.

Mike shook his head. “I got jumped, Trevor. They took the briefcase and left me bleeding on the street.” He shrugged. “That’s how getting jumped works.”

There it was, the thin tremor of anger starting to show itself in Trevor’s calm facade. His jaw clenched, eyes narrowed ever so slightly, hands trembling with effort as he tried not to clench them into nervous fists.

“They just took it?”

Mike nodded.

“You didn’t even try to get paid like you were supposed to?”

“The whole bleeding out thing made it a bit hard, Trevor.”

“Damn, it Mike.”

“Hey, you know what,” Mike said, raising his voice a notch to get Trevor’s attention. “Maybe you shouldn’t send me into fucking death traps. Or maybe you should have done it yourself, if you wanted it done right. Or how about cutting this crap like I told you months ago!”

“You don’t just cut this, Mike. You don’t just leave! I owe people, and this,” he waved a hand to encompass Mike as if his existence was a source of constant suffering, “was supposed to take care of it. But now you’re telling me we have nothing?”

“I’m telling you that You’ve got nothing, Trev.”

“Mike-”

“I’m not...” He swallowed thickly. “I’m not doing this anymore. I’m not your fucking scapegoat.”

“I don’t get what you-”

“We’re done. You either cut this shit, or we’re done.” Mike wished he felt as brave as his words sounded. He wasn’t though, he was scared, scared of losing his only friend, losing his last stable footing, losing someone he loved-

But this had to happen, didn’t it? Trevor, beautiful, toxic Trevor was going to do this again. He was going to use him, leave him for the dogs, and then say he was sorry, try to make things better. And it wasn’t his fault, that he hurt Mike, not really. Mike couldn’t even bring himself to hate Trevor for it. Some people were just a series of poorly arranged faults, who lived lives of failure and catastrophe until they found the right person to set them on their feet again.

Standing there in stunned, angry silence, Mike could see the faults in Trevor’s being and feel his own beginning to show. They were too fucked for each other, Mike cared too much, Trevor cared too little. It was toxic and waiting to drag them both further down into a pit of their own failures. And if Mike hadn’t gotten a glimpse at something better, at the tiny sliver of light peeking in around the borders of his closed off world that revolved around Trevor, then he wouldn’t have cared.

If Harvey, and his chance at starting over hadn’t happened, he would be clinging to Trevor and begging forgiveness.

“They don’t j-just let you leave, Mike.” Trevor said slowly. “What part about that don’t you get? They won’t let you out.”

“They already have.”

“How the fuck can you know that?”

“Because I made a choice to walk away clean. And I had someone looking out for me. The way you never bothered to.”

“And you’re just going to let me hang for this?” Trevor shouted.

“Like you wouldn’t have done that same thing to me?” Mike shouted back, stunning Trevor into silence. He didn’t like yelling at Trevor, he didn’t do it often. Clearly he should have, because he held Trevor’s attention, all of it focused solely on him. “You have abandoned me time and again. You have left me to take care of your shit and fix your problems and you’ve never given two shits about whether or not I’m okay with it.”

“I fucking saved your ass man, who helped you pay rent?”

“You paid rent for a month and then barely remembered to pay your part. I paid rent, I paid utilities, I’m the one who dished out everything I had for Grammie and for you and not once did you stop and think that maybe you ought to step it up and think about someone else for a change.”

“You’re my best friend, Mike. I was doing this to give us a second chance!”

Mike shook his head. “I’ve got my second chance Trevor, a real one, with a real job, a legal job, and someone who gives a shit about whether I show up each morning. So you can-” Mike tried to breathe, “So you can either tag along and get your shit together, or don’t ever come back through that door.”

“You can’t just leave-”

“I’m starting over.”

The words hung over their heads, Mike grateful that his voice was solid in his throat, not scared and weary. He fixed his gaze on Trevor, forcing himself to keep eye contact, even as he watched the rage build up.

“So,” Trevor said finally. “So you’re just going to fuck me over and then walk out on me? Is that how this is going to work?”

“You couldn’t stop dealing, Trev. I could talk to my friend and maybe he-”

“I’m not taking charity from some fucking nobody!” Trevor laughed at him. “I can’t believe you did. What did you have to do in return? Suck his dick a few times?” He stepped forward as he spoke and Mike found himself backing away.

“I met the guy three months ago. I know him.”

“Didn’t answer my question, Mike,” Trevor asked, venom dripping off Mike’s name.

They were standing a few inches apart, Trevor looming over Mike. He wasn’t much taller than him, it was the way he carried himself, the tone of his voice, the anger that sculpted his sharp cheekbones and framed his dark eyes. “You some sort of paid whore now?”

Mike stood straight, trying to remember what Harvey told his young boxers: don’t show fear, look them in the eye, feet spread, shoulders back, deep breaths.

“You remember when you ditched me at the warehouse, three months ago? After that boxing match?” He asked and Trevor frowned, taking a step back. “You remember, I know you do, even with your shit memory.”

“I didn’t ditch you, we got separated and-”

“You fucking ditched me.”

“You turned up the next morning looking like fucking sunshine, dickhead. You got laid, why does that make me the bad guy?”

“I went home with one of the boxers. And it turns out, three months later, he’s a better friend than you’ve been for the past decade.”

Trevor stared at him. “You fucked a boxer? And you’re his what, his hooker now?”

“I work at his gym.”

“And this is your new start? You’re ditching me and Jenny and everything we have fucking been through together, for- for what Mike some shitty job you’ll give up on in a month the way you do everything else? You’ll fuck him until he pays for your things? How is tha-”

“I can’t do this again, Trevor!” Mike shouted. “I can’t sit here and does this anymore. I can’t just fucking waste my time with all this bullshit. Grammie needs me, she needs me to not be the immense fuck up I’ve been. And if I stay here any longer then I’m going to let her down, Trevor and I can’t afford to do that again.”

“You can’t leave us Mike.”

“Watch me.”

Trevor made a grab for him. Honestly, Mike should have seen it coming. He’d kick himself for it later, when the fresh bruises bloomed on his jaw and his nose ached from the dried blood and his ribs stung with renewed vigor. He fought Trevor off as best he could, but Trevor was stronger. Trevor was faster. Trevor was always going to pin him down against the cold hardwood floor and remind Mike, without realizing it, how much he didn’t love him.

“You don’t just abandon your friend’s Mike. You don’t pull that shit. You don’t just fuck them over and then walk out,” Trevor shouted, holding Mike to the floor.

“You always walked out on me,” Mike shot back.

“Then why the fuck did you stick around huh? If you were so damn miserable.”

“Because I loved you, you asshole.” It was nearly a sob.

Trevor released him. “What?”

“You heard me. I’m not saying it again.” It caught Trevor off guard, enough for Mike to shove him off and get to his feet. “Now get out.”

“Mike-”

“Get out.” His throat hurt, voice raw. He could feel his hands starting to shake. It all felt real, in the moment, and it terrified him.

Trevor held his gaze a moment, before scowling and heading for the door. He stopped, hand on the doorknob, and his shoulders sagged. He glanced back at Mike. “Mikey I-”

But whatever it was he had wanted to say never left his lips. He shook his head and left the apartment, Mike standing frozen in his living room, holding his breath, waiting for the silence to break around him.

He stumbled back into the bathroom and collapsed in front of the toilet, his stomach clenching painfully. He willed the little food he’d eaten to stay down, closed his eyes and damn near prayed that he could hold it together.

When he could breathe evenly again, he grabbed for the last bag of pot and dumped its contents.

*

Rocky and Sam were sharing lunch in the second practice ring when Mike arrived an hour later, still sore and bruised from Trevor’s visit. He made to pass them without greeting, to hold himself up in the office for the remainder of the afternoon, but Rocky, mouth full of his tuna sandwich, spotted him and waved him over.

“Watcha up to bro?” He asked, quickly swallowing his food.

Sam held the ropes so Mike could climb up and join them. “I thought Harvey disapproved of eating in the rings?”

Same just shrugged. “I don’t see Harvey, do you?” Mike chuckled and shook his head. “Case in point.” He offered Mike one of his three hot dogs and Mike took it with muttered thanks.

“Shit, who happened to your face?” Rocky asked. He set down his food and crawled over, poking at the new bruise on Mike’s cheek. “They’ve got a mean hook.”

“Yeah, it’s sloppy though,” Mike said, trying to make light of it.

“Who did it?”

“No one.”

“Then no one should join the team.”

“It’s fine, Rocky. Drop it.”

Sam and Rocky shared a look.

“What?” Mike asked.

“You’re gonna want to buy some makeup or something,” Rocky said, going back to his food.

“Why?”

“Cause Harvey’s gonna be pissed as fuck, bro.”

“No he isn’t.”

“Yes,” Sam said, with a note of finality in his voice. “He is.” He lifted Mike’s chin with a careful finger. “I think we’ve got some cover up in the first aid kit. We’ll patch you up before he comes by. Rocky would you go grab it, please?” Rocky nodded and trotted off to the supply closet.

“It’s nothing, Sam. I’m fine.”

“You’ll want to come up with a better lie than that, rookie,” he told Mike. “Harvey’s going to see straight through it.”

“He’s not going to-”

“The last time one of Harvey’s teammates came in with bruises they didn’t get from practice, he put the guy responsible in the hospital.” Sam said.

Mike stared.

“I may have helped.” Sam added as an afterthought, Rocky returning with the kit. “Now hold still.”

Sam, like Harvey, had careful hands and a gentle touch, despite his calloused skin and broad knuckles. It never ceased to surprise Mike how gentle the boxers’ touches were. He wiped away the dried blood around Mike’s nose and cleaned the cut on his lip. He covered the bruise with cheap coverup, smoothing it into Mike’s skin so that it blended well and at first glance you couldn’t see a trace of the bruise. Sam even offered Mike a painkiller for the ache in his ribs.

“Harvey’s still gonna know,” Rocky said, packing up the kit while Sam went to wash his hands.

“It’s fine Rocky.” Mike said. “I’ll tell him it’s fine.”

The look the kid gave him made Mike fidget. It was calculating and just a tad bit pitying, like Mike hadn’t yet realized how damn lucky he was to be sitting in the ring, to be breathing the same air as them, as if he was missing some key piece of his life, and Rocky pitied him for it.

“He can help, you know?” he said softly. “Harvey can, I mean. He’s good. I mean actually good, ya know? Not like them guys who, well, ya know. He’s good. He can help you, Mikey.”

“Like he helped you?”

Rocky gave a small nod. “He’s a dick half the time. But he’s good.”

“I know.”

“Then let him help you, dipshit,” he said, poking Mike’s bruised cheek for emphasis, before carting the first aid kit back to the supply closet.

Tired, even though is was barely four pm, Mike settled into the office to work, content to bury himself in data and not emerge until the next morning. It almost worked too, if it hadn’t been for the irritating knocking on his office door around six.

“It’s open,” he called, not looking up.

“Well you’re not Mr. Sorkin,” a voice commented. Mike sighed and looked up from his work. A short gentleman with receding curly gray hair stood in the doorway, grinning with a twisted smile as he gazed around the office. “You’ve cleaned the place up since I last visited. It’s good, much nicer.”

“Can I help you?” Mike asked, getting to his feet. Being taller meant he held the natural power in the room.

“Perhaps you can. You are not, however, Mr. Sorkin, the last inhabitant of this office.” The man offered his hand. “Daniel Hardman, pleasure to meet you Mr.-”

“Mike. Mike Ross,” Mike said, shaking his hand. “I wasn’t aware we had any meetings today, Mr. Hardman, There’s nothing-”

Hardman shook his head. “Oh no, we didn’t have an appointment. I was just hoping to take a look at the old place. See if that dog Harvey Specter was around. I hear he has a title fight coming up. Wanted to see how fit he’s gotten since the last one.”

There was something off about Hardman. Maybe it was the way he stood, arms clasped behind his back, seemingly innocent. Or the way his eyes, dark and beady, darted around the room, cataloguing everything in it’s proper place. Whatever it was, it made Mike wary. He noted the man standing outside the door. He was tall, dark haired, with an unpleasant sneer on his face as he looked down out at the loft where the others were training.

“Let me give Harvey a call, see if he can come by,” Mike said, grabbing for his phone.

“Don’t want to be any trouble,” Hardman’s smile took on a shark like quality, but unlike Harvey’s, it wasn’t charming.

“No it’s fine just give me a second.” Mike grabbed for his phone and dialed Harvey, keeping an eye on Harmad while he waited for the boxer to pick up.

“Harvey Specter,” came the familiar voice and Mike felt his nerves settle.

“Hey, Harvey,uh, it’s Mike.”

“What’s wrong?”

“I- Nothing, why do you think-”

“You sound off.”

“Oh, no sorry, I’m fine. “ He shook his head. “There’s someone here looking for you. I was calling to see if you were done at the office and whether or not you could swing by the gym?”

“Who?”

“Some guy named Daniel Hardman?” Mike glanced over at the man, who was examining the bookshelf. “Gives me the creeps, to be honest.”

“Daniel Hardman is there?” Harvey asked. He sounded angry.

“Yeah and his associate or something. He’s acting like he knows you and I didn’t know-”

“Fuck. Mike don’t let him leave that office, you hear me? He stays there until I get there.”

“I-” Harvey hung up. “Ok.”

“Everything alright?” Hardman asked, his voice too sweet.

“Harvey’s on his way, sir. If you want to just take a seat, I can get some drinks for you and your, uh, associate, if you’d like.” Mike said, tossing his phone on his desk and motioning to the free chairs.

“Thank you, that’d be lovely.” Hardman took his seat and sighed. “I like you, Mike. You know how to be polite. Mr. Sorkin never once called me Sir. It was rude. I think I like you much better.”

“Uh, thank you, sir.”

Fifteen minutes later, which Mike hadn’t even thought possible, Harvey came storming into the office, still dressed in his fine three piece suit, hair slicked back, and a look of utter fury on his face.

“Harvey,” Hardman greeted, getting to his feet. “It’s good to see you again, and under better circumstances as well.”

“The hell do you want, Hardman,” Harvey snapped.

“Show me some manners, Harvey.”

“You lost the privilege, asshole.”

Mike looked from one to the other. “Uhm?”

“I like your new errand boy,” Hardman said, glancing at Mike. “Much sweeter than the last one, I’d say. He one of your charity cases?”

Harvey stepped between them and crowded into Hardman’s personal space. “Tell me why you’re here or I will throw your goddamn ass out onto the street without a moment’s thought.”

Hardman sighed.”I just thought you and Travis might want to say hello before the big fight is all. No harm in that, is there, Harvey?”

The man Hardman had brought with him rose from his chair and joined them, grinning with sneering lips. “Good to see you, Harv.”

“Tanner.”

Mike felt stupid. He’d known the name Hardman from his reading, but placing it had been the trouble. Hardman was the sponsor of Harvey’s title opponent.The beady eyed man with thinning hair was Hardman. Mike had just let him walk into their office without any thought to whether or not it was a bad idea.

Shit.

“You’re looking good, given that the last time I saw you, your face had been rearranged,” Tanner said, amused.

“I was gorgeous compared to you.” Harvey said. He adjusted his stance, hands in his pockets, shoulders back, chin up. It made him impressive, filling the small office with his presence. “You here to throw in the towel?”

“Hardly. Just thought I’d give you the same courtesy.”

“We both know I’m going to kick your ass. The fight is just a chance to make it public.”

“And your ego is as insufferable as ever, wonderful,” Hardman said. He turned to Mike. “I’m sure you’ve taken great lengths to get your boy ready for the fight. Any tips? We have such trouble keeping this one in line.”

Harvey interrupted before Mike could answer. “Get out.”

“Now Harvey-”

“You are not welcome here Daniel. Get out before I throw you out.”

A moment of silence followed as the two men held each other’s gaze. Tanner glanced at Mike with a sigh, seemingly unimpressed by the dirty laundry airing in the room.

Finally, Hardman looked away.

“Very well, Harvey, we’ll be on our way. Just wanted to see how the old place was doing.”

“Bullshit.”

Hardman just smiled, a grimaced quirk of his lips that showed slightly crooked, too white teeth. He lead Tanner out of the office, Harvey watching them carefully as they made their way across the loft. Mike saw Rocky follow them to the door, watching and keeping them from reentering once Harvey retreated to the office.

“Why the hell did you let them in here?” Harvey shouted once he and Mike were alone.

“I didn’t let them in, they just showed up, Harvey,” Mike said. “I didn’t know who they were, okay? I don’t know everything the way you do.”

“Don’t ever,” Harvey ordered. “Ever let that fucker in here again. You understand me?”

“I’m sorry,” Mike offered. “I didn’t... I wouldn’t have...”

Harvey shook his head. “No, no it’s fine. It’s fine. You didn’t...” He took a slow breath. “You didn’t know better. I’m glad you called me.”

“Why am I not supposed to let him in here? Other than he sponsors the guy you’re supposed to beat in a month?”

With a sigh, Harvey leaned against the desk, loosening his tie and unbuttoning his vest. “This school used to be called Pearson Hardman Boxing. You’ve just met the Hardman. A few years ago, Jessica and I realized someone was stealing from the school’s funds, thousands of dollars were just disappearing, from sponsors, from patrons. In the end, it turned out HArdman was taking the money and using it to fund his mistress.”

“Way to be a walking cliche,” Mike muttered.

“His mistress he had while his wife was dying of lung cancer.”

“That’s fucked up.”

“Yeah.”

“How... How come he isn’t in jail?” Mike asked.

“Jessica didn’t want the school’s image to suffer. We cut him a deal, let him leave quietly after he signed over his half of the school’s assets to Jessica. He’s set up in Boston now. That’s how he got Tanner.”

“I’m sorry. I wouldn’t have let him in if-”

“IT’s fine Mike. I shouldn’t have shouted.” Harvey ran a hand over his hair. “The guy’s face alone just pisses me off.”

“I noticed.”

That got Harvey to smile, though small and tense. “I thought Donna told you to take a day?”

“Didn’t have anything better to do.”

He stood and stretched. “Well I suppose that’s better than running off and finding more trouble.”

“I don’t find trouble. I’m just,” Mike didn’t really know what to say in reply.

“A catalyst for catastrophe?”

“Ha, ha, ha.”

That earned him an honest smile. Harvey stepped towards him, leaning in to kiss his forehead. Mike sighed and closed his eyes, the touch sweet and very much needed. He opened his eyes when Harvey froze. The blonde’s eyes were fixed on Mike’s cheek.

“Harvey?” he asked. He could see the muscles in the man’s jaw clench.

“Who hit you?” Harvey asked in a low, dangerous voice.

“No one I-”

Harvey grabbed a tissue off the desk and wiped Mike’s cheek, the makeup coming away with a few clean swipes. Harvey gripped Mike’s chin and studied the pretty purple skin with a stone-faced expression. When he was satisfied, he let go of Mike’s chin and leaned in close. His eyes were dark, voice quivering with barely contained emotion, his hands fisted in his pockets.

“Who hit you?”

It was the first time Mike ever feared him.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to Fight Night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This whole chapter is basically fluff and fun, getting to know the team, and drunken shenanigans, with a dash of porn at the end. I was going to extend the chapter and make it more in depth but I think this is good for now. Everyone except Rachel, Ben, Donna, and the boys are OCs, as mentioned in the earlier chapters, so just keep that in mind I guess. And Harvey's never been drunk before so I wasn't really sure what to go with, but silly fratboy just seemed really fun and almost fitting. 
> 
> Leave a comment if you have a question and enjoy <3

The conversation was dropped after that. It was only temporary, Harvey swearing to Mike that they weren’t finished and that he wanted the entire story that night when they left the gym, but it was enough for Mike to settle himself and try to think up an explanation. Only every explanation was poorly worded and flimsy and he knew, he just knew that Harvey would take one look at him and figure out he was lying. After Hardman left and Harvey had taken a moment to breathe and gather his thoughts, he had launched into what Mike was beginning to refer to as “Defcon 1”. He grabbed Sam for a conference call with Jessica, kicked Mike out of the office and sent him to find Donna, who was wrapping up a business dinner with potential patrons on The Promenade. Harvey even went so far as to call him a car before shoving him out the door, not even bothering to explain why he was going to find Donna in the first place.

Thankfully Donna was much more sympathetic.

“He’s panicking isn’t he?” She asked when she stepped out of the restaurant to find Mike and the car waiting on the curb.

“How’d you know?” Mike asked, grabbing the door for her.

“He only ever calls Ray when he panics,” Donna said with a fond smile, before poking her head into the front of the car and kissing the driver’s cheek. “How are you babe?”

Ray, their driver, beamed. “Better now that I’m in your presence, my dear.”

“Attaboy Ray.”

Mike settled into his seat besides her. “Why is he panicking?”

“Because Harvey is a wuss who doesn’t like to be taken by surprise.” She patted his knee. “Don’t worry, he’ll shut up in about an hour.”

And to Mike’s surprise, within an hour, Harvey had in fact shut up about Hardman’s sudden reappearance and had instead moved on to yelling about Fight Night.

“You are not doing this at my condo.”

Sam shrugged. “We drew your name from the hat Harvey, rules are rules.”

“No.”

“Harvey.”

“Do you need to hear it in german?”

“You are a child.”

“Nein.”

“What is Fight Night exactly?” Mike asked. Rocky, who was sitting on the cables of the ring, stifled a laugh.

Donna answered him, since Harvey was too busy scowling and Sam was trying his best not to laugh at Harvey’s childish behavior. “Friday Night is Boxing night, Mike. Most of the big fights are on Fridays and it just so happens-”

“Gareth is fighting in LA tonight,” Mike finished for her. He had read the schedule after all.

“Give the boy a treat.”

“Whenever one of our teammates is fighting and we are unable to attend, or if there’s a really good fight card lined up, the team likes to get together and watch the fight,” Sam explained. “Solidarity and what not. It’s also a great excuse to drink more than is responsible and relax for a night.” He turned back to Harvey. “And your name was drawn from the hat which means we will be at your condo at 8 pm so suck it up.”

“I demand a redraw. You can’t just draw names when I’m not present that isn’t-”

“Harvey,” Donna said.

“What?”

“Shut up.”

Grumbling, Harvey complied.

“You act like you don’t like your own teammates,” Mike said as Ray dropped them off outside Harvey’s building.

“I love my teammates. I just don’t like them invading my home without warning.”

“You make it sound like you’re suffering.”

Harvey rolled his eyes and grabbed Mike, dragging him into the private elevator with a nod to the doorman. “I am suffering. My soul hurts.”

“Wuss.”

“You’re the one with a shiner on your jaw.” He pressed his thumb against the purpled skin and Mike hissed. “I’m going to venture a guess and say you didn’t fight back?”

Mike chose not to answer, looking out the glass wall of the elevator at the city below. “Where does this go?”

“My condo.” Harvey replied and Mike wanted to thank him for not pressing the issue just yet.

“Where in your condo? I didn’t see an elevator-” The elevator stopped and the doors slid open, revealing Harvey’s living room, opposite the front door. Mike gaped and stumbled out, turning to look. “I thought this was a closet!”

“A closet next to the balcony? With glass walls?” Harvey asked, amused. He tugged at his tie, loosening it and undoing the first buttons of his shirt. “C’mon you’re more clever than that.”

The elevator was place by the balcony doors, across from the front door. Mike had simply assumed it was a closet for Harvey’s linens or entertaining supplies. And he had yet to venture out onto the balcony, not sure whether the view, and towering over all manhattan, would be thrilling or induce a heart attack. “Just hadn’t noticed, I guess.”

Harvey nodded and went to his room, waving for Mike to follow when he was ready. “It was part of what won me over, when I was looking to buy. Nothing cooler than a private elevator.”

“Whatever you say Mr. Wayne.” Mike couldn’t help but smile though, every little detail of the condo, even the elevator, helped add to Harvey’s impressive image. Everything he did seemed so much larger than life compared to what Mike was used to. He shook his head with a smile and padded into Harvey’s room, in time to catch the boxer slipping out of his shirt. “What’s the plan for tonight, exactly?”

“We order a shit load of food and booze and that’s it.” Harvey said simply, shucking his trousers and dumping them in the hamper with his shirt.

“A shit load?”

“Give or take.”

Mike laughed, trying not to focus on Harvey walking around his room in unfairly tight boxer briefs. “You want me to call it in while you, uh, change?”

“Yeah, do that. There’s a number and a list by the fridge for the pizza place a few blocks down. They have my card already so just order everything on the list, its what they requested last time we did this.”

“You wrote it down?”

“Not everyone has your memory, pup.” Harvey stepped over to him and kissed him, light and teasing. “Go call it in, I’m going to shower real quick before they get here.”

“Kay.”

The clerk on the phone was surprised when Mike called, muttering about how Harvey never had anyone else call, but he took the order down with a pleasant ease and assured Mike it would be there in time for the fight. Gareth was fighting at 9:30, unless something went wrong then it’d be later. If the other fights finished early then his fight would be moved to an earlier time. Everything seemed to be running on schedule though when Mike turned on the big screen and found the right channel, the two commentators discussing the possible outcomes of the various matches. Thirty minutes and the team would start to arrive.

“Everything good?” Harvey called from the bedroom a few minutes later.

“Foods on it’s way.”

“Any sign of the opposition?”

“Not yet keptin.” he grinned when Harvey laughed. “Vould you like me to werify their location?”

“No thank you, Chekov.” Harvey said, still chuckling as he emerged from the bedroom, jeans and a Pearson Boxing t-shirt making him look young and at ease. He went to the kitchen and dug in the fridge. “Come get a beer.”

“Will I need one?” Mike asked, leaving the couch to join Harvey.

“You’ll need several.” Harvey shoved a beer in his hand and sighed, running a hand through his messy damp hair. “You ever been to a frat party?”

“Once and it sucked.”

“Well this is going to be a frat party on speed.”

“Oh goody.”

They looked up at the sound of the door. “Donna has alcohol!”

“See what I mean?” Harvey asked as Donna came barreling into the kitchen with two large bags.

“Are you still bitching?” She asked, setting the bags down and emptying them.

“Nope,” Harvey said, kissing her cheek. “What’d you bring us, oh benevolent one?”

“Three bottles of vodka: one regular, one whipped cream flavored and one that tastes like berries. Two cases of beer that doesn’t taste like bitter water, a case of pre-made margaritas and two bottles of champagne for when our boy wins.” Donna said, stowing the bottles in the fridge. “There’s a few other goodies too but they’re not worth mentioning. Oh and I got baileys for breakfast in the morning.”

“And we can use the leftover champagne for mimosas,” Harvey added, bouncing on the soles of his feet with poorly contained glee.

“Ever think you two drink far too much?” Mike asked, trying not to laugh at the alcohol now taking up most of the free space in the fridge.

Donna and Harvey just looked at each other and shrugged. “Nah.”

“Are we even going to need this much?” Mike sipped his beer. “I thought the point was to be sober enough to enjoy the fight.”

“Oh he’s precious,” Donna said.

“We’re going to be plenty sober for Gareth’s fight. But seeing as he’s only the third person fighting, and there’s a fight card of fifteen people to get through,” Harvey just waved his beer. “We’ll have plenty of time for the drinking games.”

“Drinking games,” Mike repeated.

“Drinking games,” Donna said, opening one of the margaritas and pouring it into the glass Harvey handed her. “You’ll want to drink some water and eat plenty of bread sticks if you want to keep up, kiddo.”

“You two scare me, you know that right?” Donna just laughed and went to the guest room to change out if her dress, leaving Harvey to grin at Mike around his bottle. “She actually scares me more than you and I don’t know if it’s a good thing.” Mike said with a panicked shake of his head.

“She scares everyone, it’s part of her charm.” Harvey pushed himself off the counter he was leaning against and stepped up to Mike, cornering him against the breakfast bar. “You going to tell me what happened now?” Mike tried not to look at him, focusing on the glittering lights out the window and the bitter taste of beer on his tongue.

“Look at me Mike.” he said, his voice low.

Mike glanced up and met Harvey’s gaze. It was soft, not an ounce of anger to be found. Either Harvey was a master at hiding his feelings, which Mike figured was probably true, or he wasn’t angry with him. Mike sighed and set down his beer.

“Trevor showed up at my place today.”

Harvey touched the bruise. “He did this?” Mike didn’t miss the tremor of anger in his voice.

“Yeah.”

“Where does he-”

“Shut up for a second will you?” Mike snapped and Harvey fell silent, taken aback. “He hit me because I did what you asked.”

“Mike-”

“I’m done with him, alright? This won’t happen again because I’m never going to see him again and-” Mike swallowed thickly. “That’s fine, right?” His voice cracked just enough for the crease in Harvey’s brow to deepen and Mike’s hands to quiver and no, it didn’t feel fine. Harvey was watching him with a sober expression, eyes soft and dark in the dim light of the kitchen. His hands held Mike’s hips, not keeping him in place, but reassuring him, helping to keep him steady.

Mike forced himself to smile. “I told him we were done, completely. And he hit me. And we fell. And he asked me why I’d put up with his shit for so long.”

“Why did you?”

“Because I loved him.” He emphasized the past tense, glancing up to meet Harvey’s eyes. There was an old wound there, Mike could see the faint edges of it in the twitch of Harvey’s brow, the curve of his upper lip. “I really did.”

Harvey sighed and pulled Mike against him, tucking his face into his neck, arms slung around Mike’s thin frame. Mike clung to him in return, not willing to cry, fighting off the overwhelming emotional knot that was building in his chest. He chose instead to bury his face in Harvey’s shirt, his fingers gripping the fabric until his knuckles were white. Harvey simply shushed him, gentle little sounds that were nothing but nonsense. In any case, it settled Mike, put his nerves at ease, helped quell the tightness in his chest.

“You’re going to be fine, kiddo.” he promised and Mike found himself believing those fragile words. “You’re going to be just fine.”

The moment was broken by a well timed- “Sweet as that is, it doesn’t tell me if I’m allowed to set the dogs loose on this asshole.”

Mike snorted into Harvey’s t-shirt, laughing despite himself. He turned his head to look at Donna, who was watching them with a fond gaze, margarita in hand. She’d stolen one of Harvey’s shirts and paired it with old faded jean shorts. She smiled at Mike and came over to them, setting down her drink. She pressed herself up against Mike from behind and hugged him, Harvey’s arms shifting to pull her into his embrace as well, squishing Mike between them.

“So can I?” she asked, looking up at Harvey.

“No, Donna, that’d be considered a felony.” he replied and Mike knew his face was split with that gorgeous smile.

“Louis could get the charges dropped don’t you think?”

Harvey squeezed them both. “That he probably could. But we aren’t testing the theory.”

“Fine,” Donna mumbled, giving Mike one last squeeze before pulling away. “But you tell me if he’s a recurring problem, Mike. Capisce?”

“Capisce.” Mike let out a slow breath and glanced at the clock over Harvey’s shoulder. “Food should be here soon.”

“Which means so will the klingons.”

Mike nearly choked on his laughter as Harvey released him. “You’re terrible.”

“I am,” Harvey said with a smile, leading Mike out of the kitchen. “But seriously, you need to stop getting your ass kicked.”

“I do not get my ass kicked.” Donna and Harvey fixed him with identical looks of exasperation. “I don’t!”

Harvey made to reply when the doorbell sounded and Sam came marching in, with Rocky and Ben on his heels. “Well I’m glad to see you two have taken the liberty of starting the first round,” He said, nodding to the drinks in Donna and Harvey’s hands.

“Thundercats are go Sam, help yourself to the liquor fridge, keep your hands off the wet bar, and all will be well.” Harvey directed, dropping onto the couch and propping his feet up on the coffee table.

“Oh my god you are such a nerd,” Mike said. He yelped when a pillow hit him in the face.

“You can’t even defend against a pillow?” Harvey groaned. “God no wonder you keep getting your ass handed to you.”

“Oh did you tell him?” Rocky asked, settling on an ottoman. He was wearing a Pearson Boxing tank, his blue hair messy, jeans ragged and Mike caught the displeased look Harvey gave them. Ben followed Donna and Sam to the kitchen with a wave to Harvey.

“Not everyone has killer reflexes like you, Harvey, okay?” Mike shot back throwing the pillow back at Harvey, who merely ducked his head to avoid it.

“I’m starting to think you just don’t have reflexes. Period. Like at all.”

“Are we going to get the guy then?” Rocky asked, looking from Mike to Harvey.

“Not this time, babe,” Donna called from the kitchen. “Harvey said ixnay on the manhunt.”

“Aw, no fun.”

“Will this be happening again?” Sam asked, settling down in an armchair with his drink.

“No, Sam. It won’t,” Mike said firmly. Harvey smiled at him, an intimate little curve of the lips.

“Is that a guarantee?” the older man seemed unimpressed by Mike’s reassurance.

“Yes, it is.”

“Not really,” Harvey said, sipping his beer. Mike just glared at him.”Look, you did good cutting Trevor out, you did real good, but Mike let’s be honest this is the second time in a week you’ve come home with bruises from someone else’s fist.”

Rocky frowned. “The second time?”

The doorbell rang and the food arrived, followed swiftly by Rachel, Jackson, and a beautiful woman Mike had to guess was Melinda. Hellos were exchanged and Mike was properly introduced to Melinda, who hugged him tight and didn’t fail to comment on the bruise. She was beautiful in the same way Jessica was. She towered over Mike, which at 6’2” was impressive for anyone. Her long dark hair was pulled back from her face, muscular body and tanned skin like something out of a fitness magazine. But it was her smile that took Mike’s breath away.

“This is the pup then, Harv?” She asked, sitting on the arm of the sofa by Harvey. “He’s younger than I expected. And really skinny.”

“Don’t worry we’re working on that, Mels.” Harvey assured her, grabbed for the pizza that was now sitting on the coffee table. Wings and pasta had been set on the breakfast bar, pizza and breadsticks on the coffee table. The first fight was getting ready to begin, but everyone’s focus was on the food and light conversation.

“What did you mean, second time?” Rocky asked again, in between mouthfuls of pizza.

“It’s no-” mike started to say.

“When I hired Mike he had just gotten his ass kicked by a bunch of guys outside of the gym,” Harvey explained.

“Do we know who was responsible?” Ben asked from where he sat with Jackson on the floor, plates of food cradled in their laps.

“It doesn’t matter,” Harvey said, waving it off with his pizza crust. “They were just back alley thugs, the kind you never see twice. The problem is-”

“Harvey can we not-” Mike whined.

“That you can’t seem to protect yourself.”

“Or you just don’t see a point in it,” Donna added.

“Or you don’t know how?” Jackson offered, glancing up.

Mike groaned and slid down in his seat, wishing for the couch cushions to swallow him whole. “I’m fine, ok? Can we just stop talking about it? Not everyone is trained to break people in the most efficient manner possible.”

The room was silent, save for the tv. Then Harvey spoke up-

“All in favor of teaching Mike to fight say aye.”

“Aye.”

“Good idea.”

“Aye.”

“Of fucking course- I mean aye.”

“Aye.”

“Should have done that in the first place.”

“And there you have it,” said Donna, getting up to refill her drink.

“Alright then, starting Monday, you’re going to learn how to fight.” Harvey downed the rest of his beer as if to seal the deal.

“Do I get a say in this?”

“No,” came the reply from the entire room.

“Okay then.” Mike grumbled into his pizza.

Harvey chuckled and reached over to pull him close, Mike sliding across the smooth leather cushions. Harvey’s arm sat across his shoulders and squeezed them in reassurance. “This will be good for you. And that way I’ll know you’ll be safe if I can be there.”

“I don’t need your protection,” Mike snapped with a mouthful of bread.

“I know you don’t.” Harvey kissed Mike’s temple. “But I’ll feel better knowing you’re ok.”

Donna returned and took Harvey’s empty beer bottle, replacing it with a colorful drink Mike wasn’t sure he wanted to know the contents of, and addressed the room, all of whom were staring at Mike and Harvey in surprise. “Yeah that’s a thing by the way.”

“Called it!” shouted Jackson. “Twenty bucks, Ben, pay up.”

“The bet was for whether they had fucked or not,” Ben argued. “I said they hadn’t you said they had, and if they’re only and the dumb kissing stage then they haven’t-”

“Oh honey just pay the man,” Donna said, patting Ben’s head. “They’ve fucked already.”

“Thank you Donna for sharing my sex life with the entire team,” Harvey grumbled.

Sam laughed. “Please, Harvey, it would have come out sooner or later.”

“Better this than walking in on you two fucking in the office,” Melinda said, grinning when Harvey choked on his drink and Mike shrunk into the couch, face beet red.

“Oh god, yeah, that’d be awkward,” Rachel winced and turned back to her own margarita, Jackson and Ben cackling at the idea.

“Remind me to poison your coffees tomorrow morning,” Harvey said, taking a long drink with a scowl.

“You guys don’t care?” Mike asked, wary of the answer.

“Nah, what could possibly go wrong?” Rachel asked and Mike smiled at the heavy dose of sarcasm at the end of her question.

“Harvey’s nicer when he’s sleeping with someone,” Jackson smiled up at Harvey, earning a light kick to the head. “What it’s true!”

“Someone change the subject before Harvey has an embolism.” Donna shoved a colorful drink into Mike’s hand and sat down on his other side. “As in now.”

“Fights about to start,” Rocky said, and the whole room turned its focus to the tv, which meant they didn’t comment on the way Mike scooted closer to Harvey and curled into his side with a smile. And if they noticed the way Harvey’s arm tightened around Mike or the way the tension in his shoulders melted away, they didn’t say a word.

The first two fights were dull, nothing memorable, though Harvey did his best to explain the little things Mike didn’t quite understand, like which shots got more points and why this foot step was a better choice than that one. They bantered, playful jokes about the fighter’s techniques, mocking commentary of the announcers, bitter stories about the refs and the time Jackson nearly decked the ref for breaking up his fight. He claimed he was completely justified in his actions, but Harvey and Melinda started lecturing him and he fell silent. They made it through the pizzas and half the wings and pasta, through another round of drinks, when finally Gareth Kiloua, weighing in at 154, was announced.

Suddenly, Harvey was on the edge of his seat, Sam was standing behind the couch to get a clear view of the tv. All food and drink had been set aside, the room deathly quiet as the announcer called Gareth’s name and music rang out, Gareth stepping into his corner of the ring, clad in blue spandex shorts with Pearson written down the side of each thigh. His long hair was braided and pulled back from his face, jaw clean shaven unlike the pictures Mike had studied. He was lean and tanned, dark islander skin in sharp contrast to the paleness of his opponent.

“He’s going to win right?” Rocky asked in a small voice.

“Of course he is,” Harvey and Same answered together, with so much certainty Mike felt it impossible to think anything else. Gareth was going to win.

The moment the bell rang, Mike was reminded of the last time he’d watched the superbowl with Trevor. They’d gone out with friends to a bar, packed with people, all screaming and shouting as they watched the game on the projector screen on the back wall. It was quite like that, Harvey, Melinda, and Sam shouting combinations as if Gareth could hear them, Rocky and Ben cheering, Jackson and Rachel shouting about the opponent and the cheap shots they were taking. Donna and Mike just sat quietly, giggling over their drinks at the theatrics around them. Each time the bell rang and the fighters broke apart, Harvey would grumble and debate with Sam and Melinda, argue with Jackson that no, Gareth shouldn’t go for the gut, he should take head shots because clearly it was best to just end the fight quickly. And then they were fighting again and the shouting resumed and Mike did his best not to laugh at the way Harvey mimicked the frenzied punches while his commanded the television.

Third round came and with a deafening left hook to his opponent’s jaw, Gareth won the match. Harvey was on his feet, Sam throwing an arm around him as they cheered, Melinda laughing and toasting the TV with her drink as the others applauded. Mike could only cheer with them, Donna and Rachel singing we are the champions in mockery of Gareth’s cheesy little victory dance.  
Then came the demonstrations. Rocky wanted to know how to improve on Gareth’s form. So Harvey got him up and started to show him, shadow boxing around Ben and Jackson and the rediscovered pizza boxes. Then Ben wanted to practice what Harvey was calling the guilt trip, whatever that was, and Mike had to duck into the kitchen to avoid getting hit by a stray fist.

He was refilling his drink with whatever bizarre combination Donna had made for him when another round of shouts and cheers erupted from the living room and Rachel joined him, nursing her own empty glass.

“This is your first fight night, huh?” She asked, taking the berry vodka from him.

“That obvious?”

She smiled. “Nah, I just remember the first time I joined them for it. We had it at Melinda’s house, and I don’t... actually remember most of it.”

“Who was fighting?”

“Harvey.”

“Did he win?” Mike asked, adding a dash of juice to his cup.

“Is someone questioning my prowess?” Harvey called form the next room and Rachel spilled a bit of vodka from her laughter.

“Not at all Keptin,” Mike called back and he smiled at Harvey’s childish giggles. “I’ll take that as an answer then,” he added, grabbing a towel to clean up the mess.

“It was the first time I had seen him really fight. He was incredible.” Rachel finished mixing her drink and leaned against the counter. “He’s something to see.”

“I met him at one of his fights,” Mike said, looking out into the living room where Harvey and Sam were trying to demonstrate some sort of technique that Mike was sure would end in tears.

“Then you know what I mean, huh?” Rachel just smiled at him and offered her arm. “Come on. They’ll start the games soon. Maybe you’ll get to witness an infamous strip poker game if you’re lucky.”

“You all are insane.” Mike said, but he took her arm and they returned to the living room in time to see Sam flip Harvey onto his back with a thud. Harvey was giggling, Melinda was yelling at them for roughhousing and Donna was trying to help Harvey up while somehow managing not to spill her drink.

The rest of the fights were spent in drinking games: take a shot whenever someone misses, a shot for when red shorts lands a head shot, two shots for every two hit combo, shot for blood, shot for ref breaking it up, shots, and more shots. Mike had taken Donna’s advice and kept a steady rhythm of water and bread while he drank, helping him keep his wits about him. Ben and Jackson didn’t seem to care how wasted they got, reduced to giggle fits and incoherent shouts of protest when something went wrong in the fight. Even Rocky, who Mike knew damn well wasn’t even legal, was handed various drinks by Melinda, Ben and even Harvey, who seemed to be leading the whole drunken spectacle. The man held his liquor well, really well, considering how many drinks he’d had (almost 12 in total), but Mike could see him slipping, his inhibitions falling away, his face flushed and his smile giddy and blissed out. He was a handsy drunk, in a loving way, pulling Mike into his lap and holding him tight, biting at his shirt for no real reason, pressing his face into Mike’s neck, tickling him absently. Sadly, the strip poker never happened. They played a few rounds of Never Have I Ever and ridiculed the matches with the their own commentary and quips.

And Mike was happy. Granted, the copious amounts of alcohol were probably to thank for ninety percent of the happy feeling, but he was genuinely happy, surrounded by people he was almost sure he could call friends, nestled in Harvey’s lap. He’d given up on drinking, nursing his little glass of water instead, curled against Harvey as he watched the others with a small smile. It all felt right, like he had finally found a nook where he fit properly, without causing trouble or burdening those around him.

It was good.

“Ok, assholes,” Harvey announced as the second to last fight came to a close. “Mike and I are going to bed. You know where the blankets and shit are, make yourself comfortable and all that whatever.” He gathered Mike in his arms and stood, swaying only slightly with a chuckle. “Don’t break my shit I’ll see you in the morning.”

“If I hear you two fucking I’m baking a cake,” Rocky shouted from the kitchen.

“Yeah don’t break him, Harv,” Melinda added, sliding into the vacated seats on the couch.

“Use protection,” Sam teased, Donna sitting on his lap and laughing into her drink.

“I’ll help you b-bake the cake Rock,” Ben slurred.

“I said goodnight, assholes,” Harvey barked, carrying Mike to the bedroom and slamming the door, the laughter from the others still clear as a bell. He dropped Mike on the bed and started struggling out of his clothes.

“Are they spending the night?” Mike asked.

“You think they’re heading home that wasted? Please, we may be drunk but we aren’t stupid Mike.” He stumbled as he pulled of his jeans and tossed them towards the hamper, missing by feet. “Fight Night usually lasts until almost noon the next day.”

“Does that mean we can sleeps in?”

“Someone is making breakfast and it sure as all hell isn’t me.” Harvey crawled onto the bed and kissed him, his tongue tasting like liquor and salt.

Mike hummed and arched up into him. “Think they’ll actually make a cake?”

“Not if we don’t give them reason to.” Harvey grinned at him and made quick work of Mike’s jeans, tossing them in the general direction of the hamper, his aim so bad Mike had to laugh. “Besides I’d like to see those little shits try and work the oven. I’ve lived here...” Harvey frowned. “Eight years and I still don’t fuckin know what half the buttons do.”

“Maybe it’s a transformer, like a decepticon or something. Biding its time until it can kill you and take over the world.”

Harvey rolled his eyes. “You’re too coherent, pup.”

A giggle and Mike closed his eyes. “Sorry I didn’t realize you wanted me drunk and sloppy.” He expected a reply but all he got was Harvey’s lips pressing against his cock, mouthing at him through his boxers. “Ha-harvey!”

A sigh. “What?”

“I thought you didn’t want-”

“Whether they hear or not is your prerogative but I would really, really, like to take this to third base instead of cutesy kissing, if its all the same to you, Michael," he drawled. 

Mike stared at him. “Okay, yeah sure?”

“Always so articulate,” Harvey said, breathless, before tugging down Mike’s boxers and taking his cock in hand. Mike whined, scrambling to cover his mouth as Harvey worked him to full hardness, sucking lightly at the head.

It was dizzying, the sensations mixed with the alcohol, making the room a whirlwind of color and electricity as Mike’s hips arched off the bed, Harvey swallowing him down until Mike’s cock hit the back of his throat and his nose was nuzzling against Mike’s pelvis. Mike wanted to know how the hell Harvey had learned to deep throat, who it was he’d practiced on, who was the lucky bastard who was woken by his perfect mouth in the mornings. He wanted to know who the bastard was so he could thank him. Then hit him. Then he’d beg Harvey to blow him any and every chance he got.

Harvey liked to tease, lapping at the underside of Mike’s cock with his tongue, sucking lightly at the head, before swallowing around him and sinking back down, making Mike whine at the wet heat. His left hand reached up and covered Mike’s mouth, letting him suck at his fingers, in hopes of keeping quiet. It worked, Mike focusing all his attention on not coming and sucking Harvey’s fingers like candy. Harvey seemed to like it too, if the way he moaned around Mike’s cock was any indication. His other hand set to work on his own cock, fisting it in time with the rhythm his mouth had set. It drove Mike crazy, the breathy little sounds Harvey made, the fact he was too impatient and needy to wait for Mike to help, all pushing him closer and closer to the edge as Harvey sucked harder, bobbed a little faster, pressed his fingers teasingly against Mike’s entrance. They were light touches but they were enough to make Mike moan around Harvey’s fingers and buck his hips.  
With a muffled cry Mike came, hands gripping the sheets. Harvey swallowed, licking him clean as a thin trail of come slipped out the corner of his mouth. Mike grabbed for him, pulling him up for a kiss, licking the come away and forcing his way into Harvey’s mouth, kissing him until they were breathless. Harvey groaned into Mike’s mouth, his body seizing up as he came in his hand, swearing against Mike’s skin.

“Please,” Mike gasped out, dropping back onto the bed. “Please god say we can do that again when we’re sober.”

Harvey laughed weakly, rolling off the bed to go and wash his hands in the adjacent bathroom, stumbling a little as he went. Mike tried to regulate his breathing, staring at the ceiling with a slack jaw and a body that felt like warm lead. Harvey returned a few moments later, tossed his boxers with the rest of the wayward clothes and crawled into bed next to Mike, pulling the blankets over them and snuggling close.

“I forgot,” Mike giggled. “you’re a cuddler.”

“Ah shuddup,” Harvey mumbled, spooning behind Mike, pressing his face into his shoulder with a pleasant sigh. Mike reached for Harvey’s hand and kissed his palm. He smiled against the calloused skin and pressed it to his chest, winding their fingers together. Harvey gave another sigh and settled into the mattress, completely at ease.

“Are you guys fucking?” asked someone from the other side of the door.

Harvey growled and sat up, reaching for something on the nightstand and hurling it at the door. “Goodnight asshole!”

Mike couldn’t help but laugh along with the voices on the other side of the door, Harvey giggling against his shoulder.

Yeah, he thought as they fell asleep and Harvey pressed light kisses to his skin, this was good.

This was really good.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Donna never gets hangovers, Harvey's scared of intimacy, and Mike has a surprise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not sure how I feel about this chapter, its sitting as a sort of in between before the first big conflict,, but I hope you'll still enjoy it. I introduce a couple new characters and take a few shots at your emotions.
> 
> Enjoy and feel free to leave questions or comments.

Waking up next to Harvey was something akin to a miracle. It was one of the few times when he was quiet and completely still, all tension gone from his body, face free of the crevices caused by his scowls and grimaces. He seemed so at peace that it made Mike sad. He knew, as soon as Harvey awoke the lines in his forehead would return, the tension seeping back into his shoulders, the scowl beginning to creep back into place. His soft eyes would be framed by harshness, spine rigid with pride and responsibility. 

But there, for those precious moments, buried under the plush blankets, with their legs entwined and harmonized breathing, he was the picture of serenity and the beauty of it took Mike’s breath away. 

He lay next to Harvey, fingers tracing the shape of the boxer’s back and shoulders, the soft, toned muscle on his upper arms down to his elbow, where his forearms disappeared under the pillow. Time really didn’t matter. Who cared how long Mike had been laying there watching and touching, cataloging each soft breath and subtle shift, committing each freckle and mole to memory. It wasn’t until Harvey gave a huffed laugh and opened sleepy eyes did Mike start to feel a little ashamed for it. 

“You think really loud,” Harvey mumbled with a lazy smile.

“I didn’t mean to wake you.” Mike removed his hand, which had been tracing little shapes between Harvey’s shoulder blades, and hid his face in the pillows, embarrassed. He heard Harvey give a low rumble, whether it was coherent Mike didn’t know and the mattress shifted as Harvey moved closer.

“Always this bashful in the mornings?” he asked, voice rough and low in his throat, no more than a rumbling sound in his chest. His lips tickled Mike’s shoulder as he spoke.

“Don’t mock me,” Mike grumbled into the pillow and Harvey nipped at his skin.

“It’s cute.”

“Shut up.”

Harvey hummed and slid his arms out from under the pillow and around Mike, pulling him flush against his chest. “You’re adorable.”

“Am not.” Mike bit at Harvey’s jaw. “I’m manly as hell.”

Those childish giggles were quickly becoming Mike’s favorite sound. “About as manly as a puppy.” Mike lifted his head from the pillow and scowled. “Maybe a golden. Or a corgi. No wait,” Harvey grinned, “sheepdog.” He let out a cackle when Mike smacked him with a spare pillow.

“You’re a jerk.”

Harvey smiled. “I am.”

Mike couldn’t help but grin. “Does this mean we have to get up? Now that you’re awake.”

With a groan, Harvey buried his face in Mike’s chest. “No. The klingons are still here.”

“We’ll have to get up eventually. You have to take Rocky to see Louis, remember?”

More grumbling.

“And we’re supposed to have dinner.”

That made Harvey look up.

“We are supposed to have dinner.” he said, suddenly awake. “You still-”

“If you’re about to question whether I still want this-” Mike slid a hand out of the covers to wave absently at the room, “then I’m going to beat you with a pillow.”

Harvey seemed genuinely surprised. “Oh.”

Not sure what to say, Mike kissed him, though he was nervous at the implied intimacy of it. Desperate kisses were one thing, they could be shared with anyone when the desire struck. You could suck face with a complete stranger and it wouldn’t mean a thing in the morning. But curled together in bed, in the warm sunlit room, facing a side of Harvey Mike had barely come to know, it was a terrifying moment. It whispered about tomorrow, about a year from now, waking up on a cold winter’s morning in Harvey’s arms. Or waiting up all night for the call from the hospital, the call that would tell Mike if Harvey was ever coming home again after his next fight. It murmured the promise of cozy breakfasts and late night drinks, of open mouth kisses on his neck in the middle of the night and calloused fingers caressing his skin in the early morning. It scared him. 

“It’s too early for thinking,” Harvey mumbled against his lips. 

“Shut me up then.” Mike could do snide remarks and weak jokes, its was safer than intimacy, safer than everything those soft kisses promised, safer than what Harvey’s fingers, digging into Mike’s hips, were offering him. 

They laid there a while longer, sharing lazy kisses and sleepy words, until noise from the living room met their ears. Harvey groaned and burrowed further under the covers, refusing to leave the bed. Mike kissed him once more and crawled out of bed, pulling on Harvey’s t-shirt from the night before and searched for a clean pair of boxers, before venturing out into the condo. 

Sam and Jackson were in the kitchen, pulling together a late breakfast. Rocky and Ben were still sleeping on the couch, Donna and Rachel sitting on the balcony with coffee. Melinda had left early to pick her kids up from her ex’s house. When Mike emerged, Sam greeted him with a fresh cup of coffee and a smile.

“Is the princess still sleeping?” he asked, turning back to the eggs and bacon he was frying. Jackson was busy alternating between cutting fruit and rubbing at his sleep heavy eyes. 

“If you call grumbling into the pillow sleeping,” Mike said, sliding onto one of the stools at the breakfast bar. “How long have you all been up?”

“Mels had to leave at like, seven?” Jackson squinted at the clock, which read eleven am. “Sam’s been up since then. He kicked me awake about an hour ago.”

“And the girls?”

Sam shrugged. “They never sleep in, they never suffer hangovers, and we just don’t question it.”

Mike glanced out at Donna and Rachel, who were laughing and pointing at something on the horizon. “I see what you mean.”

“You’ll want to get Harvey up soon. Rocky’s meeting is at 1 and lord knows how long its takes that boy to get ready.” Sam dished the finished eggs onto a plate and set to work with the next batch, cracking the shells on the edge of the pan with practiced skill. “Rocky can be ready in minutes but Harvey’s got to primp and polish and lord knows what else.”

“No one appreciates a gossip, Sam.”

Mike and Jackson turned to see Harvey padding out of his bed room, in nothing but his favorite old sweats, rubbing at his messy hair. 

“I thought you were going to keep sleeping?” Mike asked.

“Bed got cold,” Harvey mumbled, coming up behind Mike, leaning into him, kissing his neck, and swiftly stealing his mug of coffee.

“Dude, that’s-” Mike sighed dramatically as Harvey stepped out of reach and grabbed for the sugar, quickly ruining the beverage with it. “Dick.”

“I don’t remember you complaining about that last night,” Harvey teased, grinning around the brim of the mug as Mike’s face flushed and Jackson laughed. 

“Thanks for reminding me we owe you a cake,” he said, dumping the fruit into a bowl and setting it in front of Mike.

“Thanks for reminding me to put rat poison in your gatorade.” Harvey said with a deadpanned expression as he sipped his coffee.

“Its too early for murder threats, Harvey,” Mike chided, earning a smile. 

“Fine. But no cake. I’m serious,” he said to Jackson. 

“Please, like I can bake? I can’t even make coffee without burning it.”

“Which explains why you’re handling knives in my kitchen.”

The banter continued as Sam served breakfast and they joined Donna and Rachel on the balcony. Rocky came shuffling out not long after, dragging Ben by his hand. Ben’s hangover was worse than anyone else’s and he spent most of breakfast with his head on Rocky’s thigh, waiting for the pain meds to kick in. It was nice, sitting with the team, sharing food off each other’s plates and light conversation over fresh fruit and crisp morning air. 

Sam took Ben home once the dishes were cleared and the kitchen were cleaned. Jackson bid his goodbyes around twelve. Harvey showered and dressed in one of his suits, hair slicked back, and suave confidence firmly in place. He got Rocky dressed in neat slacks and a button down shirt, made him fix his unruly hair, drilling him in what he was supposed to tell Louis when they got to the office, things like his record, his current weight, which class he was hoping to enter, how his last fight went, how long he expected to be on his testosterone supplements, and other little things. 

“Just keep breathing, kid, and you’ll be fine.” Harvey told him. “Louis is harmless.”

Rocky just nodded, looking like he was going to be sick.

“What time do you want to do dinner?” Mike asked, sitting with Donna and Rachel, sharing some hastily made mimosas. 

“Once we’re done with Louis, I’ll drop Rocky at the dorms and swing by to see Jessica, so I’ll call you,” Harvey said. He kissed Mike’s forehead. “Be good till then, alright? No getting into trouble. I see another bruise I might have an epileptic fit.”

“Duly noted.”

“Its so cute seeing you domesticated, Harvey,” Donna teased.

“Bite me, Donna.”

“Oh that’s Mike’s job now,” She said, beaming at Harvey’s scowl. “Mimosa?”

Harvey just rolled his eyes and waved for Rocky to head for the door. “Don’t trash the condo and don’t get Mike into the trouble. And It’d be nice if you could do your job and meet me at the office to talk to Jessica.”

“Sure thing, hon.”

“Bye, Rocky,” Rachel called. “You’ll be fine, just breathe.”

“Easier said than done,” Rocky mumbled before darting out the front door. Harvey gave a wave and shut the door behind him.

“Plans for the day?” Mike asked.

“I’m heading down to the Jersey gym,” Rachel said. “They’re bringing in a few guys to teach and I need to see if they’re up to par.”

“And I’m apparently going to meetings,” Donna sighed. “Tis the life of the benevolent overlord I suppose.”

“If you didn’t go, Harvey would probably sign the Diaz brothers or something.”

“Oh god absolutely not don’t even joke about signing those asshats.” Donna made a gagging sound and downed the rest of her drink. “I’ll dance into hell before that happens.”

“They bad fighters?” Mike asked.

Rachel shook her head. “Oh no, they’re great fighters.”

“They’re just shitty people. Like really shitty people.”

“Ah.”

Donna shrugged. “Not everyone is as nice as us, Mike.”

Mike smiled. “Ain’t that the truth.”

The girls left a little while later, Donna calling Ray to take her to the office. She kissed Mike’s cheek and promised Rachel they’d have drinks within the next couple days, before speeding off in the sleek black town car. 

“You need me to grab you a cab?” Mike asked, following Rachel down the block.

“Nah, I have my bike.”

“Your-” 

Rachel stopped next to an almost new motorcycle. “My bike.”

“Dude no way.” Mike gaped, running his hand over the flawless purple paint. “A ducati?”

“You know your bikes,” Rachel said with a smile. She opened one of the cases attached to the side of the bike and pulled out her gear. “It was a gift to myself after my first win.”

“So you’re a motorcycling, mma fighting, supermodel,” Mike said. “And somehow you’re still single.”

“I think guys are scared of me,” Rachel said, but she was smiling and didn’t seemed bothered by that fact at all. “You going to be ok on your own?” she asked, pulling on her jacket.

“I’m a grown man Rachel, I’ll be fine.”

She hugged him. “Fine. I’ll see you Monday, ok?”

“Be safe.”

He waited on the street until Rachel had ridden out of sight. Then he sighed and turned towards the nearest subway station, ready to make the trek back to Williamsburg. 

*

“Louis has anyone told you that you’re an exquisite soprano?”

Louis looked up with a roll of his eyes. “That hasn’t worked on me for the past five years Harvey, it ain’t going to work now.”

Harvey sighed. “You’re right, why prolong my suffering.” He stepped into Louis’ office. “I need you to go easy on the kid today.”

“Why?”

“He’s been on a verge of a meltdown all morning and the last thing I want is to spend the rest of my day handling his panic attacks because you felt like being mean.”

Louis chuckled. “Oh Harvey it sounds like you almost care.”

“Almost being the keyword there.”

“Fine, I’ll be nice.” Louis got up and straightened his jacket. “He in the conference room?”

Harvey nodded and led the way out the door. “He’s convinced we haven’t made any headway in this whole debacle.”

“We haven’t Harvey.”

He knew that, but Rocky didn’t need to know that. The issue at hand was only caused by old men who were running an organization they no longer belonged in. The boxing world, their world, was changing, it was no longer a haven for old men and rich kids, it was no longer monopolized by heroes of the working class and wealthy dogs. It was built on the fresh faces of poor kids, girls who were ignoring whatever rules their gender had written for them, boys who were fighting for fame and glory. Whatever thoroughbred fighters the men in charge had known were long gone and the rules they had left behind no longer fit the new generation. 

And that was were kids like Rocky got lost and tossed aside.

“I’m not sure what you want me to tell him, Harvey,” Louis said, when they reached the conference room. “We can only pull the same tricks so many times. These bastards have it in their heads that the world is still black and white, almost literally,” he added with a sneer. “It’s pathetic but it’s the way things are at the moment.”

“I’m not just going to tell the kid he’s got no chance, Louis.”

“Harvey, they don’t see him as anything other than Roxanne. And I don’t know what the hell we’re going to be able to do except for suing them for discrimination.”

Harvey stopped with his hand on the doorknob. “Can we do that?”

Louis scoffed. “I could sue the shit out of them for a number of things. But this is tricky and it could take months before we get anywhere with it.”

“You think Jessica would clear it?”

Rocky was sitting at the foot of the long table, picking at his sleeves and chewing on his lip. He looked small, almost pitiful as they watched him, Louis drumming his fingers against his thigh as he thought.

“She might. If we approach it the right way,” he said finally. “She’ll laugh at us, but-”

“But there’s a chance.” Harvey grinned and pulled open the door.

*

Mike had just finished packing up some clothes when Harvey called. “How’s the office?”

“Well, Rocky hasn’t had a meltdown yet so I’d say not bad.” He could hear Harvey shuffling through paperwork. “You?”

“Grabbing some things from my place. Is it okay if I crash with you for a night or two?”

“Am I going to have to start charging you rent?” Harvey asked, but his voice was fond.

“I’ll pay you in sex.” Mike said frankly. 

“I thought we discussed you not being my hooker?”

“It could be fun.”

“That is true.”

Mike laughed and tossed his razor and deodorant into his bag. “Listen, I... I had a thought about tonight.”

“Hm?”

“We can still get dinner, but I have,” Mike paused. “I have a surprise for you first.”

He listened to the scratching of a pen as Harvey signed something. “A surprise.”

“Yeah.”

“Does it involve you in any compromising state of debauchery?”

“You have a one track mind sometimes.”

“You started the conversation, Mike,” Harvey said and Mike could practically see his smirk. “What kind of surprise?”

“I want you to meet someone.”

“Not going to tell me who?”

“That’s the surprise, genius.” Mike fiddled with a pair of socks, his phone tucked under his chin. “So can we?”

“What time?”

“Say, three?” He glanced at his watch, that gave them an hour and a half to get sorted.

“Three thirty, I have to talk to Jessica about a thing.”

“That’s fine.” Mike let out a sigh of relief. “Write down the address?”

“Shoot.”

“647 Juneberry Avenue, Brooklyn.”

“I’ll see you there.”

“Be good.” Mike said.

“Be safe,” Harvey replied, and Mike didn’t miss the hint of emotion clinging to the words, before hanging up with a click. 

Mike tossed his phone onto his bed and took a steadying breath. He could do this, no problem, what could possibly go wrong?

*

Harvey had gathered up the files from Louis and was ready to hand them to Jessica and be on his way. But when he reached her office and caught sight of the head of brown curls he felt a sinking feeling in his stomach.

“Jessica? Am I interrupting?” he asked, poking his head in.

“Harvey,” She smiled, waving him in, but the smile was tense and her eyes tired. “We were just talking about you.”

“We?”

The brunette turned around, flashing Harvey a smile. “Miss me, Harvey?”

“Scottie, what on earth brings you back to New York?” he asked, trying not to let his initial panic show. Nothing like an ex showing up to derail your day’s plans.  
She was still as stunning as she had been when she’d left him, hopping a plane to London, engagement ring on her finger. Her eyes still shone with that clever glint he had loved so much, her smile still bright and sharp. It was almost like nothing had changed, save for the bitter taste in his throat and the tightness in his chest. He was pretty sure that feeling hadn’t been present the last time he’d faced Scottie.

“She’s here on business,” Jessica explained. “Turns out she’s working for a british school.”

“Which?”

“Darby,” Scottie said. “Guess I couldn’t escape the ring after all, huh, Harvey?”

“You on his legal team?”

“Leading partner.”

“Not bad,” he mused. “You still doing that marriage thing?”

She shook her head, a flicker of sadness catching her eye. “No, that... That never really came through.”

“That’s too bad, domesticity might have suited you.” Harvey shrugged. “But I’m glad you’re otherwise well.” He turned to Jessica. “Sorry to just barge in, but Louis and I had these for you to look over.”

“You boys playing nice?” she asked, taking the files from Harvey.

“We have a common goal this time.”

“Thank god.” Jessica glanced over the first few pages. “This about the kid?”

“Louis had a rare stroke of genius this afternoon.”

“Funny.”

“We should have dinner, Harvey,” Scottie said, getting to her feet. “I’m leaving town tomorrow morning, maybe we could do something tonight?”

“I actually-”

“That would be a fantastic idea,” Jessica said. “You can explain to Harvey the same offer you explained to me. It’d be good to get his take on things.”

“Jessica I-” she raised a delicate eyebrow and Harvey swallowed his words. “Dinner would be great. My place?”

Scottie smiled. “You going to cook?”

“I’m full of surprises.” Harvey wasn’t sure when his resolve had turned to jello. Maybe it was the look on Jessica’s face, one of unhappy desperation, one Harvey had learned early on not to argue with, because she was upset, and when Jessica was upset his life could very swiftly become miserable. She looked tired and worn, on edge and hoping for a drink. “My place, 8 o’clock. I’m sure you still remember where it is.” Jessica gave him a grateful smile that Scottie couldn’t see.

She owed him.

*

“No, no, it’s fine, I understand,” Mike said as he crossed the street, glancing back over his shoulder. “We can still meet at 3:30 though, yeah?”

“Yeah, I’m leaving now, I should be there in twenty minutes or so.” Harvey sounded tired.

“Cool, I just got here so I’ll wait outside for you.”

“I am sorry, Mike.”

“Don’t apologize, it doesn’t suit you or your ego.” Mike made his way to the little dog park at the corner of Juneberry and Fitz, settling down on a vacant bench. “And who is this again?”

“Dana Scott. She’s many things, among them, my ex. Just so happens she’s head of the legal team for a british boxing school. Something about a deal or an offer. Whatever it is, it has Jessica on edge. If it wasn’t for that I wouldn’t have agreed to dinner.”

The idea of Harvey spending the night with his ex made Mike’s stomach clench. But Harvey was a grown man and was entitled to his own choices. Mike just prayed that those choices wouldn’t include the bed they’d shared the night before. “It’s fine, Harvey.”

“You can crash at my place tomorrow, okay?”

“Okay.”

Harvey paused. “You sound off again.”

Mike sighed. “No I’m... I’m fine.”

“What’s wrong?”

He glanced around. “Would it sound crazy if I said it feels like I’m being followed?”

“Followed?”

“I know it sounds crazy,” Mike said quickly. “And it’s nothing, I just... I keep getting this feeling that I’m being watched.”

“You wouldn’t be the first person in this city to develop mild paranoia, Mike, and you won’t be the last.”

“Yeah. Sorry, it’s nothing.”

“I’ll see you soon, ok?”

“Okay.”

*

Harvey arrived not much later, pulling up outside the dog park in a sleek car, much like the one Donna had taken that morning. Mike was waiting with a wary smile.

“Please tell me the surprise isn’t a pet you adopted on a whim.” Harvey said, looking around at the various people and their dogs.

“No, I just figured this was a good place to wait for you.” Mike nodded down the block. “The surprise is this way.” he was trying not to fidget from his nerves.

“You sure you ok?”

Mike just nodded. He led them to an old brick building a block away from the dog park, the windows lined with flower boxes, the sign on the door freshly painted. Harvey followed him inside without comment.

“When you gave me the job,” Mike started to explain as they walked the halls, passing nurses in colorful scrubs and various patients. “You had absolutely no reason to believe I was actually telling the truth. Hey Tracy,” he called, waving to the nurse in polka dot scrubs. “Can we stop in?”

“Sure thing babe. Just call me if you need anything. She’s been good so far, but you never know,” the nurse replied, before going back to the paperwork she was reviewing. 

“So this is-” Harvey began to ask.

Mike stopped outside a faded blue door. “This is me proving it to you. And sort of... I don’t know thanking you... For the blind faith or whatever.” He swallowed thickly. “Just smile and look pretty, okay?” Harvey nodded and Mike slowly opened the door.

The room was small and cozy, the outdated wallpaper well suited to the mismatched furniture, the bed made for a hospital, the old worn armchairs like something found at a yard sale. Photos covered the walls, black and white portraits of faces long forgotten, colored candids of a young couple, of a little boy in clothes two sizes too big. Discarded knitting sat on the dresser, next to old books that hadn’t been opened in months. On the bed sat a small woman, with white hair and shaking hands, her blue eyes glassy and bright. 

“Grammie?” Mike called softly. 

She looked up and smiled. “Oh I wasn’t expecting visitors!”

Mike led the way into the room with a smile, Harvey hesitating in the doorway. “Just thought I’d stop in, Gram, see how you were doing. I have someone I want you to meet.” He kissed her cheek and motioned for Harvey to join them. “When I called, I told you about the job I got, remember?” She gave an absent nod. “Well, I wanted you to meet the man who helped me.”

Grammie smiled at Harvey. “Well aren’t you a dashing young man.”

Harvey took her hand. “Thank you, Mrs. Ross. It’s an honor to meet you.” Other than that he was at a loss for words. 

“I do hope you’re taking good care of my James for me,” she said, patting Harvey’s hand.

“Ja-” he frowned, but Mike cut him off.

“He is Grammie don’t worry.” Mike said in a strained voice, his hands fisted in his pockets.

“Good, good.” She turned back to Mike. “When are you going to bring Nina and the little monster, James? I haven’t seen them since christmas this is almost criminal.”

“I’ll bring them s-soon, I promise.”

Harvey watched the rest of the scene in silence. Mike sat with Grammie and asked her about the doctors, about the nurses, if she was taking her medicine and not causing trouble. He asked, in a weak voice, whether she was feeling better and if she’d want to go for a walk the next time he came to visit, if maybe she’d want to take Mike out to lunch or to the park. And she smiled, and nodded, and said of course she would, she’d love to see her grandson. She was knitting him a scarf, since three year olds needed to keep warm, she said, and what better way than a scarf from Grammie? Mike smiled sadly and agreed with her.

The whole time she kept calling him James. 

They didn’t stay long, just a half hour, enough time for Mike to make sure things were alright. He grew more and more distressed the longer they stayed, Harvey could see it in the way he held himself, the way his voice shook. The moment he said goodbye, and his grandmother’s focus was on the television, Mike bolted from the room like he’d been electrocuted. 

When Harvey caught up to him outside the Nursing Home, Mike was shaking.

“Mike? Mike are you okay?”

“I’m sorry,’ Mike gasped. “I’m sorry, I thought.. I had hoped... She’d been great last week, she... she knew me and I thought,” he took a gulping, choking breath. “I thought she’d know me and- oh god.”

Harvey grabbed him by his shoulders. “Breathe, Mike, breathe.” Mike sounded like he might start hyperventilating. “I need you to breathe for me.”

“I am breathing!” Mike snapped, eyes filling with tears. “Oh god I’m sorry.”

Harvey shushed him. “Who’s James, Mike?”

“M-my father,” Mike said, his voice finally breaking. He took a shaky breath and kept talking. “Some days she thinks I’m my father, others a nurse, and then sometimes she just.. doesn’t know me at all and she freaks out and I... I should have brought you, I’m sorry. I just thought she’d be... here and you could... fucking hell.”

“Mike, relax,” Harvey said gently. “It’s alright.”

“No. No it isn’t.” Mike stared up at him, fighting back tears.

And it wasn’t alright, nothing about that whole moment was alright. Harvey just didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know how to handle this, the intimacy, the pain of it all, the tears. This was foreign to him, it was foreign and the exact reason Harvey kept people at a distance. Because it terrified him. 

He pulled Mike into a tight hug, letting him hid his face in the front of his suit, holding him as he shook with sobs we fought to keep in. That was all he could do, the only thing he could think of, because what did you say to someone who’s only family didn’t even remember them?

There was nothing to say, and for the first time in many, many years, Harvey felt a sense of failure that came with not being able to care for someone precious to you. He wasn’t sure what to be more concerned with, the sense of failure, or that Mike was now precious to him. 

He focused everything he had on the latter, pressing his face into Mike’s neck, holding him until the tears subsided, not given a damn about the fact that they were standing on the street like a pair of fools. 

* 

“Do you have to go?”

Harvey sighed and kissed Mike’s hair. They had retreated to Mike’s apartment after visiting Grammie, hoping to calm Mike down so his hands would stop shaking and he’d stop apologizing again and again. The bed had been their final destination, curled together in silence, Harvey’s vest, jacket, and tie tossed over the couch in the living room. Silence had surrounded them for most of the afternoon, the occasional kiss and murmured question the only thing disturbing it. Harvey hadn’t known what to say to Mike and Mike didn’t know what to tell Harvey, both out of their depths in ways they had never expected. So they had chosen silence and hesitant touches, and for the moment it had suited them. 

But eventually the clock on Mike’s bedside table read 6:45 and Harvey had to go home and prepare for Scottie’s arrival. 

“Sadly,” he said, but he didn’t bother to move from the bed, Mike still wrapped around him, using his chest as a pillow. 

“And there’s nothing I can say to talk you out of it?”

“There’s plenty you could say, Mike, but whatever this dinner is about had Jessica upset.”

Mike sighed. “And Jessica can’t be upset.”

“Not if we want to keep living.” Another sigh and Harvey kissed Mike’s hair again. “I’ll make it up to you.”

“Okay.”

Harvey took his time getting out of bed and gathering his things, acutely aware of Mike watching him with a somber expression. When he had dressed himself again, found his keys and phone, and slipped on his shoes, he turned back to Mike who had followed him out into the living room.

“You going to be ok, rookie?” he asked and Mike nodded. 

“I’ll be fine.”

A kiss and Harvey forced himself to walk out the front door, leaving Mike behind.

He’d be alright, Harvey told himself, Mike would be fine.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An attack close to home that know one saw coming. It's been a long time since boxing was a blood sport outside of the ring, but old traditions die hard, and Mike is caught in the crossfire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This is the Chapter with the Rape/non-con. 
> 
> You don't witness anything but we deal with the aftermath and Mike's injuries. And explanation will follow in the next chapter as to why it happened, since it's a personal attack on Jessica and Harvey. Mike will be ok, this doesn't break him, this doesn't ruin him, in fact if anything, it helps him become stronger. 
> 
> The first half of the chapter is actually pretty happy, its the second half where the emotions kick in. 
> 
> Also I love the idea of Donna, Mike, and Harvey having this lazy almost poly relationship so that shows up a bit at the end.

Mike didn’t see Harvey again until Monday night. 

Sunday morning he was awoken by movement in his bedroom. He grumbled and opened his eyes to see Donna digging through his closet. It took him a minute to register the fact that he wasn’t dreaming and Donna had somehow gotten into his apartment while he was sleeping. When it did register, Mike screamed and toppled out of bed in his attempt to cover himself with his sheet.

“Morning sunshine,” Donna greeted as she examined one of his button down shirts with a thoughtful expression.

“How did- how did you- what are you-”

“I met your landlord down stairs on his way out. Nice guy, little shady.” She tossed the shirt aside and started digging again. “Wasn’t hard to talk him into letting me into your apartment.”

“What?” Mike asked, climbing to his feet, still trying to process the fact that Donna was buried in his closet at 8 in the morning.

“I told him I was your cousin.” She pulled out another shirt, one of Mike’s favorites, and gave it a critical scowl. “Really might want to think about moving into a slightly more secure apartment, there kiddo.”

“Why-” Mike sighed and sat down on his bed, sheets pulled up over his boxers. “Why are you in my apartment anyway?”

She smiled and set the shirt down on the bed, grabbing a clean pair of jeans from Mike’s dresser, and how she knew where his jeans were made him slightly more concerned. “We’ve got grunt work to do.”

“Its 8 am on a Sunday.”

“Welcome to my world.”

“On a Sunday,” Mike repeated, stressing the word and Donna laughed. 

“I know, I know. I’ll buy you breakfast if it’ll stop your whining.” She motioned to the clothes. “Shower if you need to then get dressed. Quickly if you can, buttercup, cause we have a lot to do. And I mean a lot.”

“Is this Harvey’s fault? Cause I’m going to hit him if it is.” Mike grumbled, grabbing his clothes and pulling them on. 

Donna made a noise of sympathy. “Actually it’s not. This is Jessica, which means no hitting anyone. Harvey’s unavailable or else he’d be helping us.”

Mike’s stomach tightened. Why was he unavailable? Had his dinner with his Ex turned into the ever cliche morning after with the ex> He glanced at Donna, ready to ask, but she gave a quick shake of her head and a gentle smile.

“No, he isn’t busy sleeping with Scottie. I can see you worrying, don’t.” she said, dropping into the spare chair in the corner. “He’s at the gym today.”

“He’s always at the gym.”

“He’s in a mood at the gym.”

Mike frowned. “How is that any different than every other day he’s at the gym? The guy is always in some kind of mood. You know that better than anyone.”

“No, Mike, there’s Harvey, and then there’s Harvey in a Mood,” She sighed. “And Harvey in a Mood is extremely unpleasant for everyone.”

“So I can’t,” Mike pulled his undershirt on over his head. “I can’t go see him?”

“It isn’t advised.” he noted the hint of sympathy in her voice.

“Is he okay?”

Donna nodded. “He will be.” She got to her feet and helped Mike button his shirt, her quick fingers pale against the dark blue fabric. “Trust me, Mike, he just needs space and time with the heavy bag. You didn’t do anything wrong.” When she finished with the buttons, her hands reached up to cup Mike’s face. “I promise you that, ok? This is his thing.”

“Okay.”

She smiled. “Attaboy.” She pinched his cheeks and turned away, going to grab her things from the kitchen.

“What is it we’re doing, exactly?” Mike asked, giving his hair a quick comb through.

“Running some errands and doing press work. We have a fundraiser to set up for this coming friday and I’ll be damned if I let the team try and organize it. The last time they thought they could pull it together was nothing but chaos. I’m amazed they didn’t have strippers there.”

“They tried to get strippers at a fundraiser?” Mike asked.

“Well, Greg and Kyle tried. Harvey almost strangled them.”

“I can imagine.”

“Pack some clothes, you might have to crash at my place.” Donna added, poking her head back into the bedroom. “Stuff that actually looks like it wasn’t bought at walmart.”

“Hey my clothes are not-”

“Don’t argue with me about the quality of your clothes because I’m seconds away from setting your closet on fire.” she considered him a moment. “Add shopping to our todo list.”

“I don’t need-”

“Yes,” She said firmly, “You do.”

And that was the end of the conversation. Donna tossed clothes out of the closet, Mike packed them without objection, and within half an hour they were out of the apartment and speeding towards Manhattan in the same town car from Friday, Ray greeting them with a smile and a kiss for Donna. 

“Where to first then?” Ray asked, pulling into traffic. The one thing Mike had never understood, though he had lived in the city all his life, was why there was so much traffic on Sunday mornings. Granted, he knew people went to church, but even still it always seemed like far too much rushing around for what had been deemed the biblical day of rest.

“The offices first, Ray. We’ll wait for the shops to open before we try and doll Mike up,” Donna said, typing away with quick fingers on her blackberry. 

Ray gave a laugh. “Oh Mike I pity you.” He glanced at the mirror and Mike say his smile. “Donna is going to tear you apart-”

“And rebuild him into a glamorous princess,” she said.

“The prettiest princess,” Ray agreed.

Mike just groaned.

The offices for Pearson Boxing , to Mike’s surprise, were happily nestled on the 16th through 34 floors of a Manhattan skyscraper. The view, as he and Donna stepped out into the lobby of the 34th floor, was astonishing, and he was grateful Donna allowed him a few moments to gawk out the window. Much like Harvey’s condo, it was a godlike view, the park below and the maze of buildings that made up Manhattan all waiting below like loyal subjects. He could watch the cars speed past like they were ants, the people almost invisible to the naked eye, the sky crisp and blue and clear, stretching on for miles.

“Pretty cool, huh?” Donna asked, coming up besides him.

“I... wow,” was all Mike could manage.

“Yep.”

“You get to see this every day?” he asked in a weak voice.

“It’s one of the perks.”

“I bet.”

Donna smiled and patted his shoulder. “Come on, let’s go see Jessica.”

Jessica was seated at her desk, yelling at someone on the phone , but when she saw Donna her face brightened and the conversation was over in seconds. “I have never been more happy to see you.”

“I can see that.” Donna said, waltzing into the office like it was her own, Mike following anxiously after her. “Who was that?”

Jessica scowled. “Hardman.

“Ew.”

“Felt the need to explain why he visited the gym on Friday.”

“I thought Harvey and Sam already briefed you?”

“They did,” Jessica sighed and sat back in her chair. “But Daniel wanted to rub in the little details.”

Donna made a face. “Would you like something to cheer you up?”

“Please.”

“We’ve got the hall at the Chilton reserved for the benefit fundraiser this Friday night.” Donna said with a smile, pulling files out of her bag and handing to Jessica with a flourish. “All the conformation paperwork is there. We’ve also got free catering thanks to a favor I called in, the decoration will be provided by the hotel, music is half priced, if that, since I’m friends with a local band who does really well with swing and Jazz.” Jessica read over the files as Donna rambled on. “We’ll have just enough press coverage to get some attention but not enough to ruin the fun, alcohol is covered but in limited supply so the fighters can’t make asses of themselves and I’m halfway done with the invite list. We’ve already gotten fifty RSVPs.”

“I would say I was surprised,” Jessica said, setting down the papers. “But then I’d be lying.”

“We’ll have the decor and guest list finished by this afternoon. We’ll also be making sure the team is properly dressed for the occasion.”

“My hero.” Mike could feel the waves of satisfaction rolling off Donna’s shoulders and he couldn’t help but smile. Then Jessica glanced at him. “Is the pup helping with the grunt work then?”

“I figured it’d be best. Especially since Harvey’s,” Donna signed something with her hands and Jessica laughed, signing in return.

“Wait you two know sign language?”

Jessica nodded. “One of my brothers is deaf.”

“And I learned it in college,” Donna said, signing her words as she spoke. “It comes in handy more often than you’d think. You should learn, I’ll give you the textbook I have.”

“I’ll have it read and learned by tomorrow night,” Mike said.

“It’s not the easiest thing to learn, Mike,” Jessica said but Donna waved it off.

“He’s got a special kind of robot memory, he’ll remember.” Jessica raised her eyebrow in disbelief and Donna just grinned. “Trust me on this.”

“Like I would do anything less,” Jessica shot mike a look but let it slide. “You off on errands for the rest of the day then?”

“Yep, unless you need me here. We have to get Mikey ready for the press and find suitable decor. I’ll handle suits for the boys.”

“Rachel was interested in a suit as well, I’ve got her measurements here.”

“Oh Renee will have a field day with her.”

“Just make sure he behaves and has everything ready on time. Nothing crazy, no wacky colors, no paying homage to the eighties.”

“Noted.”

“Then away with you both. I have a board meeting to schedule and apparently a princess that needs handling.”

“Call me if he starts breathing fire,” Donna said, getting to her feet and turning to go. 

“I will put him on his ass if he tries it.”

Mike secretly hoped he would get to see that one day.

*

A day with Donna, he learned, was actually something Mike thoroughly enjoyed. Sure he was used as a mannequin, a pack mule, a handbag, and a number of other slightly demeaning things, but Donna was kind, funny, and wanted his say on everything. And everything meant everything from curtain colors for the hall to which suit would be best for Rachel and even what new tie she should buy for Harvey to wear to the fundraiser.   
When they had finished shopping for decor and little presents for the team, rewards for good behavior as Donna called them, they moved onto Mike’s new wardrobe. And while he expected to be emptying his account on it all, a thought that terrified him, Donna smacked his hand away when he offered his wallet at the register, pulling out a sleek black card from her pocket book instead.

“Donna I can-”

“This is on Harvey and I, pup.”

“But-”

She pressed a manicured finger to his lips and handed the grinning cashier the card. “It’s on us. Now shut it and grab your bags.”

Mike did as he was told with a mumbled thanks and flushed cheeks. Clothing was never something he had found important, or worth large sums of money. The most he had spent on one item of clothing was maybe a hundred dollars, spent on the shabby suit hanging in his closet back home. He’d only worn it for an interview that had fallen through and the infamous deal. He was sure there were still blood stains on the lapel and the sleeve, but he had yet to check.

“Thank you,” he said again later that night, as he and Donna shared dinner in her little studio apartment. It was a beautiful place, well decorated with modern features and bright colors, flowers in the windows and placed on the bookshelves. 

Donna smiled and sat back in her seat, chopsticks in hand. “You’ve thanked me seven times since we left the avenue, Mike, I get it. I’m awesome, but even endless praise get’s a little old.”

“I just don’t get why though,” he said with a shrug. “I mean I saw the receipt, Donna. That was a stupid amount of money to spend on a few pairs of jeans, some shirts, and a new suit.”

“Maybe I just wanted to spoil you a little bit.”

“You barely know me.”

That brought a somber look to her face and Mike felt small in his red kitchen chair. “I have to know you as well as your grandmother to buy you some nice things?”

“No but-”

“Harvey and I had agreed on this shopping trip a while ago, when he first hired you. He wanted to buy you some new clothes since he knew you couldn’t yet afford them.” She sipped her wine. “Harvey and I like spoiling each other and we like spoiling certain people. I spoil Rachel and Jackson all the time. Harvey spoils Rocky like crazy. Its something we can now afford, something we couldn’t afford before.”

Mike nodded. “So Harvey wasn’t always king of the hill?”

“Oh no, Mike, far from it. The day he realized he had fifty thousand in the bank he went into shock and cried for almost an hour.” That was something he couldn’t picture. Whether it was Harvey crying or Harvey not being... Harvey, something about the image just seemed ridiculous to him. He knew Donna could see it in his face. “You could ask him about it, if you want, but he’s a bit touchy on the subject.”

“So he just likes to spend money on people because he has money?”

“On certain people, Mike, not just anyone.”

“So I’m special?”

Donna laughed into her wine. “If you have to ask that question then maybe he’s not fucking you enough.”

Mike choked on his sushi. “He f-fucks a lot of people, Donna.”

“Yeah, but only once. Maybe there’s a second round but it’s like a lunar eclipse. And then suddenly, he fucks you three months ago, and he will not shut up about you.”

A warmth spread through his chest. “He talked about me?”

“Babe he had me run a search for you. He wanted to find you before he left town. He asked me to find out where you worked, if you were a student, anything that could help him get a hold of you. It was endless rambling about mike this and mike that and he had only slept with you once.” She shook her head. “I started drinking a lot more than normal trust me.”

“I... I didn’t know,” Mike said, eyes fixed on his food, trying to ignore the warm fuzzy feeling building in his chest.

“Course you didn’t. Harvey doesn’t do feelings, or romance, or anything longer than a night. But suddenly, you walked in and knocked him on his ass,” Donna smiled at him, fond and warm. “And trust me, we are all grateful to you for it.”

“Well, you’re welcome, I guess?” he offered, toasting her with his wine. 

Donna laughed and grabbed for the bottle. “C’mon, one more glass and we’ll put on a movie.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

*

The next morning found Harvey waiting in the office for Mike, his forehead resting against the desk, shoulder slumping, body aching with exhaustion and stress.

“Are you done being a little bitch?” asked a voice from the office doorway.

Harvey sighed and lifted his head from the desk. “Good morning to you too, Donna.”

She leaned against the doorway, dressed for the office in a sharp white blouse and a tight black pencil skirt. He’d have commented on her appearance, how pretty she looked, just like every morning, but the look on her face made his stomach sour and he pressed his face back into the cool wood of the desk instead.

“Well are you?” she asked again.

“Maybe.”

An exasperated sigh and Harvey knew she was as tired as he was. “What happened, Harvey?”

“Jessica is considering a merger with an English school. Hardman is trying to force our hand and I know he’s pulling some sort of shit behind our backs. And then,” He lifted his head and made a face. “Scottie.”

“Ok seriously you are making everyone miserable because you can’t handle an ex? You are worse than a high school girl.” She pulled his chair away from the desk and turned him to face her, kneeling down in front of him. She held his face with her hands and leveled him with a serious gaze. 

“It’s not funny.”

“It is because you’re being a little baby. Now tell me about the merger.”

Harvey sighed and leaned into her touch. “Nothing is final yet, but Jessica wants to draft a possible contract that would merge our school with Darby United, the British school. She swears nothing here will change, other than in increase in funds, but I don’t trust it.”

“You never trust anything. There’s no point in worrying over something that isn’t even a thought yet.” She rubbed his cheek bones with her thumbs in lazy, soothing strokes. “Tell me about Hardman.”

“He’s a lying snake in the grass who will do or say anything.”

“We know this, Harvey. Why do you think he’s doing something behind your back?”

“It’s...” He shook his head. “Its just a feeling. Something doesn’t feel right. Jessica is saying the same thing. He’s never this cordial, he never shows up so close to a fight, and he never tries to get into our office.”

Donna nodded. “There was the thing with Sorkin.”

“That was on Sorkin. Sorkin was a weasel who was willing to sell out his team for a better paycheck. All Hardman had to do was write the damn check.”

“But this is different,” she said, waiting for him to explain. Her hands moved down to hold his.

“He tricked his way in here. He buddied up to Mike. He brought Tanner with him. He made a point of asking about our tactics. He wants us to be off our guard. And I don’t know why.” He swore and pressed his face into his hands. Donna shushed him, her fingers locked with his. “Something is wrong and I don’t know what.”

“Do you think Hardman would risk something out of the ring?”

Harvey shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe. He’s old school, I wouldn’t put it past him. But everyone here is used to his shit, there’s no one he could target.”

Donna’s brow furrowed. “Other than Mike.”

Her words hung around them like an omen, haunting their quiet breaths until Harvey shook his head.

“No. He doesn’t know who Mike is. He wouldn’t risk anything more than a meeting, coffee or some shit like that. And Mike is too smart to let that happen.” He shook his head again to reassure himself. “Where-”

“He’s visiting his grandmother. The doctor called him this morning at breakfast, said she was doing better. He took off like a shot, said he’d try to come in later.” Donna gave him a smile. “He’s going to be fine Harvey. Like you said, Hardman isn’t that bold.”

Harvey let the words fill his head, let them settle his nerves, let the way Donna’s hands tightened around his calm his mind. “I’m sorry.”

“Give Mike a call. He’s the one who needs to hear that.”

“I fucked up this weekend.” he said with a wince.

“I know. I fixed it. Just call him.” Donna kissed his forehead and got gracefully to her feet. “I’m going to make the rounds, be good.”

He nodded and sat back in his chair. “We didn’t talk about Scottie.”

Donna stopped in the doorway. “Is there anything to say about Scottie?”

Sure, there was a long winded history but she’d heard every word time and time again, after too many drinks, or too much adrenaline, or a phone call he hadn’t expected. She knew all the ins and outs and insecurities that Scottie brought out in him, all the worries and regrets and every shoulda-coulda-woulda. But, now that he thought about it, there really wasn’t anything new to say.

“She’s coming over for dinner again tonight. Her flight got changed to Wednesday. She wants to go over a possible contract.” he said, and he knew Donna was surprised. She’d been expecting some sort of emotional jumble. But a calm smile made its way onto her face.

“Stay sober and you’ll do fine, hon.” She said. Then she left the office with a flourish and a tattoo of stilettos on the floor. 

*

Mike was leaving the nursing home when Harvey called him.

“Are you still in a mood?” he asked, making his way across the street.

“Did Donna tell everyone?” Harvey asked with a sigh. “No, no I’m not. And I’m... I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Mike said, but he smiled at the sincerity of the awkward words. “What had you so upset?”

“A few things, nothing urgent really, now that I’ve stepped back to look at it. How’s Grammie?”

“She called me Mike today.” The words brought back the sting of tears, but he could stop smiling.

“Oh Mike that's wonderful.” The breathlessness of Harvey’s words didn’t help and Mike had to wipe his eyes on his sleeve.

“Yeah, she uh, she wants to meet you again,” he said, clearing his throat. “I told her I’d bring you by soon.”

“Definitely.”

Harvey’s voice made Mike’s skin hot, his breath catch in his throat and god he hadn’t realized how much you could miss a person’s voice, even after so short a time. He felt grounded, as he made his way through the busy crowds, grounded, tethered, happy. All because of a few words and a steady, fond voice. 

“So are you busy tonight?” he asked.

“Unfortunately. I have another business dinner. I promise tomorrow you can come over and I will devote all my attention to you after training.”

“Don’t worry Harvey. Just let me know when.” He was a little disappointed, but then again, he was somehow involved with a pro athlete. A part of him had always known he wasn’t going to get as much attention as he wanted. “Good luck with your dinner tonight, ok? I’m about to hit the subway.”

“Alright, be safe.”

“You too.”

*

Dinner with Scottie.

Round 2.

Harvey chuckled to himself as he dished the food out onto plates. Maybe fight lingo wasn’t the best way to approach this. Scottie smiled at him from her seat at the dining room table glass of wine in hand. Maybe he should have listened to Donna’s suggestion to go sober. 

“I’m still stunned that you learned how to cook,” she said. “It’s almost like you’ve been domesticated.”

“Not quite yet,” he assured her, setting out the food. 

“Some girl is going to get very lucky one of these days when you finally do.”

Some girl, Harvey thought to himself. What a silly thought, that some girl would domesticate him. But then, between Mike and Donna, he was already domesticated. And maybe that realization should have scared him, that the thought of lazy mornings and coming home to Mike actually made him buzz with warmth rather than cringe. Instead it made him smile to himself as he topped off Scottie’s glass of wine. 

Maybe he would ask Mike to stay with him more. 

Maybe Mike could move in. 

Huh, Harvey thought, sipping his wine, now there was an idea.

Dinner was spent in easy conversation, much like their first dinner. They discussed the merger, various possibilities, what would benefit Darby and hinder him, what Harvey should do to help out his school. They breached the topic of Scottie’s failed attempt at marriage, why it had fallen through, but she had trouble telling Harvey about her fiancé.

“He might have been too much like you, I think.” She gave a shrug and emptied her glass. Harvey pointedly kept his gaze on his food.

They were clearing up from dinner and preparing for more wine and a round of dessert, when the doorman called up to say he had a visitor. Harvey expected Donna, or Sam, or Melinda, there to tell him that dinner with Scottie, after everything that had happened, was a terrible idea. Maybe word of the merger had gotten out and they wanted to stop him from making a rash decision. He had planned to turn whoever it was away, when the elevator reached his floor, though Scottie was amused with the idea of surprising whoever it was, especially if it was Melinda. The two shared a fairly unpleasant history, why Harvey didn’t know. So Harvey left her sitting on the couch, so she could scare their visitor, and went to look for another bottle of wine, one that would suit their dessert better than the one they were currently drinking. He was comparing two bottles when he heard Scottie scream, followed by panic and breaking glass.

"Jesus, Scottie, you didn't have to throw your wine at them," he replied, hurrying back out to the living room, only to find Scottie standing behind the couch pointing to the elevator, her glass of wine shattered on the ground by her feet. "What the hell?"

"I thought you said it was Sam or Melinda!" She snapped at him. "Who the hell is that?" She waved to the elevator and Harvey eyes found the slumped figure.

"Mike?" Harvey hated the sound of his voice, disbelieving and even a little bit scared.

It was Mike, curled into a ball, hood pulled up over his head, a black eye visible, bloody nose probably broken, lip split and bloody. He looked up at them and panicked, trying to get to his feet, muttering weak apologies to Scottie, to Harvey, for interrupting. "M'sorry, m'sorry, I'll go, I didn't mean to ruin... ruin your night... m'sorry."

Harvey was pulling him out of the elevator before he could escape. There was blood soaking his t-shirt, from his nose and the gashes Harvey could see through the tears in the fabric. When it became clear the grip Harvey had on his shoulders wasn't going to lessen, Mike clung to him, apologizing for the blood, for everything. "Scottie, grab my phone I need you to call-"

"No!" Mike shouted, slipping in Harvey's grip. "No hospitals, no, they'll f-find-" Harvey shushed him before he could finish and he buried his face in Harvey's shoulder.

"Call speed dial 7, please?" he asked Scottie, who was still staring in a mixture of shock and disgust. "My doctor, see if he can get here tonight, ok?" She stared at him. "Now, Scottie!" Startled, she nodded and rushed for his phone. "Alright, come on, let's get you to the bathroom." He adjusted Mike and held him tighter. "Can you walk?" Mike nodded but after a few steps his leg gave out and Harvey had to carry him to the bathroom, his shirt now stained just like Mike's.

"M'sorry," Mike muttered. "M'sorry."

Harvey set him on the sink counter and grabbed for the scissors. "Don't apologize, you did nothing wrong."

"B-but Scottie-"

"Will get over it." He carefully pulled Mike's hoodie off his shoulders and began cutting away his ruined shirt. "Jesus christ, kid."

Mike's torso was beaten and bruised, bloody gashes along his abdomen, blotches of purple and blue along his ribs. He whined when Harvey touched them and tried to pull away. "Its not as bad as it looks."

Harvey shot him a look and he fell silent, giving Harvey he chance to strip him down and get him into the shower. He ignored the way Mike shied away from his touch, the flush on his cheeks at his state of undress. Now wasn’t the time to be bashful. "Stay here," he told him, turning on the water so that it was warm and gentle against Mike's tormented skin. "Don’t move I'll be right back."

He found Scottie hanging up the phone and pouring herself another glass of wine. "Doctor can't make it till first thing in the morning, Harvey. We should get him to the hospital."

"He said no," Harvey told her, taking his phone and calling Jessica. "I'm not going against his wishes."

"He doesn’t know what he wants, Harvey, he's standing half dead in your shower," she snapped at him.

He shook his head, "No."

"Harvey, it's past 10 you'd better have a damn good reason for calling," Jessica said, unamused, from the other end of the phone.

"Its important Jessica."

"What happened?"

"Mike... Mike was attacked, I don’t know by who yet, but its bad. The doctor-"

"Take him to a damn hospital, Harvey."

Harvey sighed. "I can't. He says whoever did it is still after him, which means its-"

"Someone who knows us and knows we'd take him to a hospital," Jessica sighed. "I smell a rat."

"We'll sort that out tomorrow. I have to go patch him up. Working the contract with Scottie has been postponed, I've already spoken to her, she's on board." Scottie shot him a look. "I'll keep you posted. And be careful, Jessica."

"Take care of him, Harvey."

He didn't bother arguing with Scottie about the rest of their evening, Mike was more important. He hurried back to him, Mike curled against the tiled wall, barely standing, face hidden against the tiles. "Mike?" He looked up, eyes red, the left one swollen shut. God he looked pitiful and broken. Harvey took a cloth and reached out for Mike, waiting for him to turn towards him, waiting until Mike gave him a nod of okay before pressing the cloth to his skin and slowly wiping him down. He could feel Scottie watching them from the door. Mike tried to hold himself up, Harvey supporting him with one hand, being careful not to touch Mike anywhere that made him shy away.

"Who did this to you?" Harvey asked gently, carefully turning Mike so he could clean his back. More welts and bruises. He heard Scottie groan at the sight.

Mike said nothing.

"Who did this to you?" Harvey asked again, in the same quiet tone.

"I can't," he replied weakly.

"You need to tell me Mike."

He shook his head. "I can't."

"Why not?" Harvey strained his ears to hear the response, something that sounded like 'they'll hurt you'. He glanced at Scottie. She gave him a withering, but sympathetic look. "Mike, I need you to spread your legs for me. I have to check your thighs, see if they're bleeding."

Mike whimpered and pulled his legs tighter together. "No."

"Mike-"

"No!" it was a broken sob that shook Mike's frail form.

"Do you want me to do it, Harvey?" Scottie offered.

"No it’s fine." Harvey told her, resting his hand on Mike's lower back. "Mike, its me. You know I'm not going to hurt you." he just shook his head, and hid his face in his hands, pressing closer to the wall. "It's not like I haven't seen you or touched you before."

"Harvey," Scottie hissed.

"What?" He shot back at her. "Does it offend you that I've slept with him?" Mike made a whimpering noise at his words.

"No," Scott said quickly, with a panicked shake of her head. "No that isn't what I... You need to be gentler with him."

"I don't need your pity," Mike snapped in a cracking voice.

“It isn’t pity,” Scottie said calmly, “It’s concern. Look, Harvey you finish cleaning him up. I’ll go down to the front office and get another first aid kit, alright?” 

“We don’t know how much bandages we’ll need.” Harvey rubbed Mike’s back slowly. “Mike I need to check your thighs, c’mon.”

“I said no.”

“Mike, stop being difficult, it’s not like-”

“No!”

“Harvey maybe you should just-” Scottie tried to reason, but Harvey could see thin trails of red down the inside of Mike’s thighs.

“Kid, you’re bleeding. I need to take a look at it, ok? Scottie can leave if that’s what you’re worried about, just stop being a brat and let me help you.” He said, starting to lose patience, the annoyance adding a harsh edge to his voice.

“I’m not bleeding. I’m fine.” Mike said.

“Mike.”

“I’m not bleeding. I’m fine.”

Harvey made a low sound of anger. “Stop being a martyr and let me help you.”

“Harvey, stop-” Scottie stepped forward to try and separate them.

“Don’t,” he said to her, holding a hand out to keep her away. “Mike you need to let me look. Stop being a goddamn princess and let me-”

“You won’t want me,” Mike shouted at him, voice cracking as he tried to curl further into the wall, away from Harvey’s touch. His legs shook and he dropped to sit in the tub, hands coming to fist in his hair, shoulders hunched, his thin and bony figure more apparent than ever as his skin was pulled taut over his shoulder blades, ribs, and spine. The fire in Harvey’s chest died with a sputtering cry, the spray of the water cracking the inevitable silence that followed Mike’s outburst. Scottie hovered behind him. He could see her eyes darting between them trying to discern what Mike meant. And then it struck her, the blood on his thighs and the shame in his voice, and her pretty face contorted in pain and nausea.

“Oh my god,” was all she could force out, in a pained whisper, before covering her mouth and taking a step back.

“Scottie.” Harvey’s voice sounded foreign to his own ears. “Can you give us a moment please?”

“Of course.” and she hurried out of the room.

Harvey toed off his shoes and socks, not bothering to peel off his already ruined clothes. Mike sat curled on the floor of the shower, body shaking violently under the spray of the shower. He stepped in beside him and knelt down, pulling Mike carefully into his chest, Mike’s bruised shoulder resting under Harvey’s chin. Mike tried to pull away but his limbs were like lead and all it did was make his injuries ache. He slumped against Harvey, letting him wrap his arms around him, one across his chest one across his back, letting Harvey slip his leg under Mike’s knees so he was practically sitting in his lap. He said nothing, simply wrapped himself around Mike and Mike let him, scarred and bleeding hands gripping his bicep for dear life. Harvey’s clothes were soaked and heavy, the cloth rubbing against Mike’s skin. He was careful not to rest his chin on the bruise that stretched from Mike’s collarbone to the edge of his shoulder, careful where he placed his hands, cupping Mike’s cheek to turn his face towards him so he couldn’t look away, pressing his forehead to Mike’s temple.

“What are you doing?” Mike asked, his throat burning.

“Sitting.”

“Why are you holding me?”

“Someone needs to.”

Mike snorted, in an attempt at lightheartedness. “So what, you gonna baby me for the rest of the night?”

“No,” Harvey said softly, bringing his lips to the blotchy skin of Mike’s shoulder in an absent minded kiss. “Just going to sit here until you’re ready to talk.”

“And if I’m q-quiet all night?”

“I’ll be here when you finally cave.” There was no force in his voice, no irritation, nothing more than the calm steady reassurance he always tried to offer Mike. Now was not the time for anger, that came later. Later was when he had the right to wrap his hands around the neck of whoever was responsible and squeeze until he heard the cracking of vertebrae. But now was the time to sit in silence, drenched by the shower, with his arms full of a cowering, bloody, exhausted Mike who was too defiant to confide in him.  
Ten minutes, twenty minutes, Harvey soon lost track of how long they sat there, as he rocked Mike gently. After a while he’d stopped shaking, the whimpers and hisses of pain had ceased. Scottie came to check on them, her face somber and tired and much older than Harvey had ever seen it, before retreating back to the living room. Mike had fallen deathly silent. It was possible he’d fallen asleep, but when he let out a gut wrenching sob, Harvey held tighter to keep him from pitching forward into the tile.

“Easy, Mike, easy.” He soothed as Mike sobbed and shouted and swore to the point of incoherence, clinging to Harvey, his body trying to curl further inwards on itself, the pain from his injuries making it impossible. “Breathe, keep breathing.” Harvey reached up and turned off the shower, leaning over to grab a towel from the pile of fresh ones Scottie had left them, He wrapped it around Mike and pulled him closer, as Mike’s tirade began to end.

“I’m sorry,” he choked. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

“What are you sorry for? You didn’t do anything wrong.” Harvey kissed his hair. “None of this was your fault.” Even if it somehow was, it would never be seen that way. Harvey took a small hand towel and started to wipe down what he could reach of Mike’s legs. He couldn’t reach the insides of his thighs, Mike keeping them tight together, but Harvey could at least see that the bleeding had stopped and most of what was there was drying on his irritated skin.

“I let you down. I’m supposed to be tough like you and I... And I failed.” Mike buried his face in his hands.

Harvey swore softly, pulled Mike’s hands from his face and held them tightly in his. “Look at me. Mike, look at me.” He received the smallest and shiest of glances. “This does not make you weak. Not even a little bit, do you understand?”

“Harvey, I’m the definition of weak!” Mike pulled his hands away. “If it had been you, you’d have gotten away with a scratch but no, I had to...” he gagged on his words and Harvey prayed he’d manage to keep whatever was in his stomach down until they had left the shower. “be the weakling and they... oh god.”

"Talk to me Mike. Talk to me. What did they do?" It was a stupid question, he knew that, but having Mike vocalize it might make it hurt just a little bit less. Or it would make everything worse. Either way it was a step forward from where they sat now.

"What does it look like they d-did Harvey," Mike spat.

"Use your words," He urged, fighting back the sickness in his stomach.

Mike let out a pained angry sound but words followed it. "They c-caught me a few blocks from my apartment. I went on a grocery run and these guys, they’d been tailing me I think. I knew I was being watched but I... I didn’t know where, you know? They grabbed me, took me around back of a b-bar, made it seem like a bar fight being ta-taken outside. No one stopped, no one saw a need to. One of the guys panicked, thought he heard the cops, and I got a chance to run." Mike swallowed. "I only made it a few blocks when some more of their guys caught up with me. Dragged me into a garage, one of their shops, must have been a mechanic. And they... There was five or six of them, but two sat out. They wanted information, on you and Jessica and the fight."

"What did you tell them?"

"Nothing. I kept my mouth shut. Then they brought up...My Grammie, and the deal... They knew about Trevor and I-"

Harvey groaned and kissed Mike's shoulder. "They threatened blackmail?"

Mike shook his head. "I expected that. No, they thought instead that they'd..." he closed his eyes and covered his mouth to fight back a wave of nausea. "They'd make me worthless to you Wanted to scare me off. They seemed to think I was some sort of paid hooker. And no one wants a hooker who's damaged goods. Two of them, the rest had left. They took turns, called me names, everything r-" he paused, trying to force out the word. "Rapists do in films and books. I don't know how l-long I was with them."

"If you can remember the location we can use it to find who's responsible," Scottie said from the doorway. A dark rage mixed with the disgust on her face. She offered Harvey a glass of water for Mike and a bottle of painkillers. "I have a few connections."  
Mike mumbled a broken thank you as she left before he started talking again. "They only stopped when I passed out. One of them was worried I was dead. I woke up after a few minutes, played possum until I could get a break and make a run for it."

"How the hell could you run after that?"

"I was scared. And they wanted you next, said they knew where you lived, were going to... I wasn't..." Mike covered his eyes and let out a ragged breath. "Even if you didn't want me anymore, I wasn't going to let them hurt you. The adrenaline got me to your building. And I... I thought maybe you might still... want me," It was then that he started to cry. He buried his face in Harvey's shirt and cried, his body shaking with the force of his sobs. "I'm sorry Harvey, I'm sorry."

Harvey held him, tried not to look at the finger shaped bruises around Mike's wrists and neck, tried to ignore the guilt and sickness mixing in his gut. "Shush, Mike, it's alright. It's alright. I've got you," he murmured. "This doesn't change a thing. You're still my boy." He felt Mike choke on his sob. "Breathe, that’s it, that’s a good boy, Mike. You're still my boy I promise."  
He would not cry. He would not let himself be weak, not when Mike needed him, not when he needed to protect him, care for him. He blinked back the stinging tears building in the corners of his eyes, bit his lip, held his breath, until the feeling passed and he went back to the cold numbness in his chest. He could work with that, the numbness, it would get him through the night. Then in the morning, while Mike slept, he could have his proper reaction, one of violence and grief.

“Mike, look at me,” he said gently, pulling Mike away from his chest to look him in the eye. He held Mike’s face carefully in his hands, like something fragile. “This changes nothing. Understand?” His voice was low and surprisingly steady. “This changes nothing at the gym. This changes nothing with your standing there. This changes nothing in how I view you.”

“Harvey-”

“Don’t interrupt.” He saw Mike’s lip twitch in a weak smile at his usual scolding tone. “Nothing is going to change because of this. No special treatment, no pity, no coddling after tomorrow, unless you ask for it directly.” He pressed their foreheads together and let out a slow breath. “And most importantly this changes nothing in our relationship.”

Mike gave him a scared look. “We don’t really have a-”

“Again with the interruptions.”

A giggle, albeit weak, was a good sign.

Harvey grabbed for the wet cloth and carefully wiped down Mike’s face. “You are still my responsibility, still my assistant, still my, as Donna has deemed you, favorite pain in the ass.” He wiped the blood from Mike’s nose. “I will still treat you the same way, still make puppy jokes, still insult your intelligence. I promise not to bring this up unless you need to talk it out, or puke, or hit something.” The cut on Mike’s lip was much less gruesome than Harvey had expected, once the dried blood was gone. “And I’m still going to take care of you. Do you know why?”

“Because I’m your responsibility?” Mike offered, lifting his chin so Harvey could clean it, revealing a few small cuts.

“Because,” Harvey set down the cloth and pulled Mike closer, pressing his lips to Mike’s forehead. “I still want you.”

It was an anti-climatic declaration; they were both too tired to act upon his words. Mike stared at him, red eyes scanning his face for any hint that he was joking, but Harvey held his gaze, steady and sure, until Mike’s lip quivered and he buried his face in Harvey’s neck. Harvey let him cling, let him cry, let him muttering panicked and hysterical words into his skin, his shoulders shaking, until he fell silent, heaving deep ragged breaths, his fingers digging into Harvey’s soaked shirt. Mike let out a manic spurt of laughter and pulled back, grabbing Harvey’s face to drag him in for a kiss. It was desperate and rushed, more teeth and laughter than anything. But it was important. Mike needed physical reassurance and Harvey was willing to give it to him.

“I still need to check your legs,” Harvey said when Mike pulled away for air. “If you’re still bleeding I need to know.”

Mike nodded. “Okay.”

“This doesn’t change anything.”

“I know.” And there was a hopeful, knowing tilt to his voice.

He spread his legs and let Harvey work. When he was done, and the damage had been noted and the blood washed away, Harvey pulled Mike to his feet and dried him off, Scottie bringing them an extra first aid kit and another glass of water for Mike. They got him bandaged up, gauze and bandages all over his lanky body, until not a scrape could be seen. Mike let Harvey lead him to bed, tuck him in, and tell him to sleep, with a promise he’d return soon to join him. Mike would never admit to clinging to Harvey’s wrist and kissing his pulse before letting him leave, never in a million years. But he did and it roused the violent tremor in Harvey’s chest. Someone would pay dearly for touching his boy. The damage had been less than Harvey initially imagined, the blood on Mike’s legs from cuts along his inner thighs rather than internal wounds. He was still sore and in pain, and he would be for a few weeks. Sitting would be a chore, walking would too, and there was no way in hell he’d be riding his bike any time soon. But Harvey felt a little relief knowing that they hadn’t done any permanent physical damage. He wasn’t sure to what extent the emotional trauma would reach, if Mike would be against all physical contact below the waist, or if he’d have triggers from here on out. Harvey expected nightmares and mood swings, was prepared to lose sleep over this.

“He ok?” Scottie asked when Harvey emerged from the bedroom, his soaking clothes replaced with sweats and a t-shirt.

“He will be.” Harvey sighed and poured himself a scotch. “Sorry for.” he just waved his hand and Scottie shook her head.

“It’s fine. Its nice to see you care so much about someone. It’s weird, don’t get me wrong. But it’s good.” She stood and went to fetch her coat. “We’ll reschedule the contract stuff when all this is over. If you need anything, call, ok?”

“Seriously?” Charity wasn’t one of Scottie’s normal habits.

“Seriously. I’m making an exception to my bitch rule. Take care of him, ok? And yourself too.” She kissed his cheek and let herself out.

“Goodnight, Scottie.” he said to an empty condo. He sipped his drink, trying to clear his head, but the violent tremor remained in his chest, humming and pulsing with an enraged burn. He had planned to act on this in the morning, but someone needed to know. So he called their mutual guardian angel.

“Harvey Reginald Specter it is the middle of the night someone had better be dying.”

Harvey smiled at the vicious bite of Donna’s sleep heavy voice. “Someone will be soon enough.”

There was a pause.

“... and you aren’t joking.”

“Want to help me kill someone?” Harvey asked.

“Only if it involves me holding a flamethrower.” Donna said, sounding much more awake. He could hear her moving around her apartment. “Or a Hatchet, I’m a fan of the classics.”

“I think that can be arranged.” He murmured, pleased that Donna’s violent streak from their early days together still stood.

“So what brought this on?”

“Someone hurt Mike.”

Another pause. Harvey could hear the kettle whistling.

“What?”

“Mike got grabbed on his way home. Someone has a beef with us and he-”

“How hurt?” Donna’s voice was quiet and still.

Harvey glanced to the bedroom. “Cuts and bruises, possible concussion, black eye, cracked ribs. No internal bleeding that I’m aware of. And...” he swallowed thickly. “injuries resulting from sexual assault.”

The line was silent.

“Donna?”

“I’m coming over.”

“No, Donna you-” The line went dead. Harvey sighed and downed his drink. Better than having a shouting match over the phone. 

He dialed the next number and a half asleep Sam answered. “Harvey? Everything ok man?”

“We’ve got a problem Sam. Someone hurt Mike.”

Sam let out a grumble. “Do we know who? Same guys?”

“Different. It’s personal. They know us, Sam.”

“You don’t think-”

“I’m starting to.”

“Hardman isn’t that risky, Harvey.”

“I can’t think of anyone else who would be.”

Sam sighed. “I don’t know Harvey. I assume you’ve called Jessica?”

“Yeah.”

“Then we’ll talk to her tomorrow. Go take care of him. I’ll see you at the office.”

“Thanks Sam.” He hung up and Donna came barging in the front door.

“Where is he?’ She asked, surprisingly calm despite her panicked appearance. She’d thrown on sweats and a jacket, grabbed a bag with what Harvey guessed were clothes, and pulled her hair back from her face in a messy bun. She dumped her things on his couch and stormed past him. “Is he ok? Did you take him to the hospital? Harvey where is he?”

“He said no hospitals, Donna,” he said stopping her. “Donna breathe, he’s going to be fine. I’ve got-”

“Where’s our boy, Harvey?” She shouted at him. Harvey stared at her, a little bit stunned. Her facade was cracking, her lips a tight line to hold back her words, body tense under his hands. It had been a long time since he’d seen her this distressed. He nodded to his bedroom door and she took off, opening the door quietly and rushing inside. Harvey followed.  
Mike had fallen asleep at last, his breathing easy and deep, face buried in Harvey’s pillow. Donna sat on the edge of the bed and ran her hand over his short hair. He shifted in his sleep and she pulled away, bringing her hand to her mouth instead. Harvey stood in the doorway watching in silence as Donna fixed the blankets and whispered to Mike, promises of safety, that they’d take care of him, that he’d be alright, she promised, they promised. She leaned down and kissed his bruised temple, sliding off the bed, fixing the covers one more time, and following Harvey back out to the living room.

“Do we know who’s responsible?” she asked in a level voice, pulling her hair free and messing it with her hand, an absent-minded action.

“Not yet.”

“You got Sam and Jessica updated?”

“We’re meeting first thing tomorrow.”

She poured herself a generous helping of scotch. “Does Jessica have a theory?”

“Not yet.” He refilled his own glass. She nodded. “He’s going to be ok, Donna.”

“Sexual Assault?” She asked, her voice cracking.

“Multiple offenders.”

It was then Harvey saw something he hadn’t seen in years. The last time had been when a thug, a nameless nobody who’s boss was due to fight Harvey, turned up at the gym to “set Harvey straight”. Donna had found Harvey, and the Thug, in the alley behind their warehouse, Harvey’s nose broken and gushing blood. The Thug hadn’t given Donna a second glance, until the taser was being wedged into the meat of his neck and her knee was colliding his his groin. Donna’s face had been contorted with a beautiful, harrowing rage, her eyes dark and burning, cheeks flushed, teeth bared in an angry sound. She had carried that look long after the police had arrived and Harvey had been examined by the ER. He hadn’t expected to ever see it again, he’d been more careful after that. He’d landed a few hits but he didn’t want Donna getting in harms way for him again, though they had an unspoken agreement between them that stated the other would seek retribution should one of them be hurt. And since then he hadn’t seen that beautifully terrifying look.

But now they stood in his living room, Donna’s face dark, her eyes burning, cheeks flushed as she bit into her lip hard enough to bruise, her fist clenching dangerously around the glass. Her red hair framed her face like hell fire, deadly and stunning and everything Harvey had ever loved and feared in her. It humbled him, brought him to his figurative knees, his head bowed to her in submission because there was no challenge he could make that she wouldn’t win. He was almost afraid to meet her eyes, afraid of being burned. A lesser man would have cowered, but he held her gaze and waited for the break that never quite came.

“What are we going to do?” She asked softly.

“Take care of him,” Harvey replied. “I can skip a day of training and the doctor will-”

“About the fuckers who’re responsible.” Donna interrupted. Harvey caught the dangerous tremor in her voice and tried to ignore the shivers it sent through his nerves.

Harvey let out a slow breath as he thought. He could see Donna’s hands trembling, the scotch in her glass shifting with the unsteady movement. He stepped forward, slow, easy steps and covered her hand in his, the glass settling. She looked to him expectantly, the way she did awaiting orders in the office, but there was a darkness there that made Harvey’s own violent tremor surge.

“We make them suffer,” He said simply. A feral smile worked it’s way across Donna’s lips and he was sure it mirrored his own. She held up her glass in a toast to seal the deal and the sound of clinking glass echoed around the room.

Several drinks later, they were curled on the sofa, Donna’s bag on the floor, and Harvey cradling a very pissed off Donna in his lap. Her initial quiet, terrifying rage had died after her second drink, and while the look still lingered, she had let her calm and collected facade retreat, leaving her panic and anger behind.

“I’m still surprised you care so much,” Harvey said into her hair, arms slung around her waist.

“You’re my boys,” she said in a bitter tone. “Someone has to take care of you both. Mike’s young and stupid and unbearably innocent for having lived in this goddamned city his whole life.” She knocked back the rest of her fourth drink and growled. “I don’t like it when people hurt my things.”

“I’m one of your things?”

She laughed, fierce and heated. “Harvey you’ve been one of my “things” since the day we met.”

“That’s probably true.”

“No probably about it. You’re wrapped round my pinkie.” And he was. And so was Mike.

Donna fell silent and set her glass down, her rage softening. “I was worried about him. But I never thought this would happen. You know I care too much, Harvey. And he’s a good kid, he’s our good kid. We fixed him up, gonna make him great-”

“I’m doing most of the work-”

“We’re making him great.” Donna repeated, kissing his forehead. Harvey sighed, because where he applied the force needed to mold Mike, Donna had provided the kindness needed to keep him rooted. So yes, they were making him great.

“I guess I can share him,” he muttered and Donna giggled.

“Oh no, honey, you can keep his nether regions for yourself. I’ll just take the occasional cuddle and sacrifice to my greatness.”

“I think we can manage that.” he said and held her tighter.

“We should go check on him,” donna said after a few moments of easy silence.

“We should sleep is what we should do,” Harvey checked his watch, it was nearing 2:30 in the morning. “Did you call out for tomorrow?”

“For the morning. I called Jessica on the way over. She’s pissed.”

“Of course she is, someone who has nothing to do with it got hurt. It’s like a mother watching her kids suffer for her mistakes. She’s probably furious.” He lifted Donna off his lap and gathered their glasses, depositing them in the kitchen. “You can share the bed with Mike, I’ll sleep out here.”

She rolled her eyes. “Always a gentleman.” But she refused to let him return to the sofa. She pulled him into his own bedroom and they checked on Mike together, woke him just long enough for him to take a drink of water and for Harvey to check his vision. Then Donna slid into bed on his right and Harvey took his place on Mike’s left, curled around him, his face pressed into Mike’s skinny shoulder. Donna let Mike wrap his arms around her, let him snuggle closer, his face nuzzling her neck. She reached for Harvey’s hand and held tight, offering him a weak smile over Mike’s sleeping figure. And Harvey found himself sleeping soundly for the first night in weeks, holding tightly to them both. It should have been weird, the three of them entangled like that, but it felt right.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mike learns what it means to be a part of the Pearson Boxing Family, Jessica's honor is threatened, and Harvey handles his problems the good old fashioned way, with fists and blood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for taking so long with the update, but this chapter was tricky and I wasn't happy with it for a while. Beware for discussion of Rape and Sexual Assault in this chapter. However Harvey gets his lovely slice of revenge so it might make you feel a little better. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy!
> 
> Batty

6 am and Harvey’s alarm sounded. 

It was a chore to roll over and untangle himself from Mike, who was still wedged between him and Donna, but he managed it, smacking at the alarm until it fell silent. It meant he needed to get up and work out, go for a run, hit the bag, get his ass in gear, but Mike made a whimpering noise in his sleep and Harvey slid back under the covers behind him.

“You can go Harvey,” Donna said softly, opening sleepy eyes with a smile. “I’ll watch him.”

“I’ll stay.”

“Harvey,” she said again, a pleading tone to her voice. “Your fight is this weekend, four days away.” He sighed. “Go use the gym next door okay? Just to work off some steam before the meeting.”

“Okay.”

He leaned over Mike and kissed Donna’s cheek, before kissing Mike’s forehead and crawling out of bed to get dressed. The condo next to his had been empty for ages and the building manager, when he had seen the amount of bank Harvey was making as a fighter, agreed to lease it as a personal gym, one Harvey could use when he wasn’t feeling well or had days off. Or, in this case, needed to hit something before he lost his temper on the wrong person.  
He ran to central park and back, went at the bag for two thirty minute sets, and did shortened versions of his strength and core training. It wouldn’t help him in the long run, he needed to lock himself in the gym and work until his body gave in, so he was ready for Tanner on Saturday. He had to start making wait, cutting down until he was exactly 170 or else nothing would matter cause he wouldn’t get a chance to fight. But it would have to do, because Mike was of slightly bigger importance.

Which made Harvey stop to think, setting down the barbell. When had this kid become more important to him than a title fight?

And how had he missed it happening?

That only frustrated him further, leading to a violent second round with the heavy bag. Answers however eluded him, leaving him with aching muscles and sore knuckles, and he made his way back to his own condo, only to find more uninvited guests waiting for him in his kitchen. 

“Who let you in?” He asked, staring at Jessica who was seated at the breakfast bar with a cup of coffee. She looked over at him and smiled. He didn’t fail to notice the tension in her expression.

“That would be me,” Donna replied for her. She was busy pouring another cup of coffee for herself and one for Sam, who leaned against the kitchen counter with a solemn expression.

“I thought we were meeting at the office?” 

“I thought this might be easier. And I want to see the boy,” Jessica explained. “I need to talk to him myself.”

“He’s in no shape to be-”

“Doesn’t matter.” She snapped. “This was kinder than dragging him into the office. Be grateful, because that was the initial plan.”

Harvey sighed. “Fine just let me go change.”

Jessica waved him off and he retreated to his room to change, Mike still curled up asleep under the covers. He pulled on clean jeans and a fresh shirt, prayed he didn’t smell, and ran a comb through his hair. Not that he needed to look presentable for Jessica and Sam, it was more just a force of habit.  
He sat down on the edge of the bed when he finished and ran a hand over Mike’s hair. Mike fidgeted, mumbling to himself as Harvey scratched lightly at his scalp. He wasn’t sure whether it was more to comfort Mike, or to remind himself that Mike was going to be ok.

“You should shower,” Mike mumbled, eyes opening to peer up at Harvey.

Harvey’s heart shouldn’t have leapt at that. “I will once Jessica leaves.”

“Why’s she here?”

“She wanted to check on you,” Harvey smiled, still playing with Mike’s hair. “She’s worried.”

“I’m still amazed she knows my name.”

“Yeah well, you’re special kid.” Harvey leaned down and kissed him, Mike whimpering against his lips and reaching to hold him in place. But Harvey pulled away. “I’ll be back to get you in a little bit okay?”

Mike nodded and Harvey kissed him again.

“He awake?” Donna asked when he returned to the kitchen. Harvey nodded and she hurried past him, disappearing into the bedroom. 

“How is he?” Sam asked.

“Bruised and sore, but otherwise more or less with us,” Harvey said, sitting down next to Jessica.

“Do you know what happened?” She asked him, sitting back in her seat.

Harvey took a slow breath. “He was walking home from a grocery run when they grabbed him. He remembers getting away and running for a few blocks, but they had someone waiting at this car garage, and they caught him.”

“Did they give a reason?”

“They wanted to know about you and me.”

Jessica’s face darkened. “And?”

“Mike is loyal and stupid, he didn’t say a word. But that means they know us, they have some sort of ties to the boxing world and I frankly think-”

“Hardman isn’t that bold, Harvey,” Sam said, just as he had on the phone the night before. Harvey scowled at him. Jessica raised her hand to keep him from arguing.

“What are the extent of his injuries, Harvey?”

“Mild concussion, bruised, maybe cracked ribs, bruises and cuts all over his body.” Harvey ran a hand through his hair. 

“That sounds fairly routine to me,” Sam said. “That could be anyone who has beef with us Harv-”

“They raped him, Sam.”

Jessica and Sam stared at him in silence. When neither of them replied, Harvey took his chance to carry on, drive the point home.

“Mike has been working for us for barely a week,” he said slowly, his voice shaking. “He is a good kid who deserves this chance as much as the rest of us. And because we failed to make sure this goddamn rat was never going to come haunting our doorstep again, he is now a goddamn statistic!” he shouted, getting to his feet. 

“Harvey-” Sam began to say.

“Don’t you tell me that this was anyone other than Daniel. Daniel knows what happens to a person in this world when they’re weak and vulnerable. He knows what happens to them and just to drive that point home, he takes from Mike, from our boy,” Jessica’s eyes softened at that, “the only dignity he had left.”

A soft laugh sounded from the hallway. “You make it sound like I’m a eunuch or something.” Mike was leaning against the wall, Donna behind him, watching him carefully for any signs of distress. “Rape is a fact of life okay? I’m fine.”

“You should be in bed,” Harvey said, swallowing the knot in his throat.

“I’m fine,” Mike said again, shifting his gaze to Jessica. “I thought you’d like to hear my side of things, Ma’am, before Harvey shouted your ear off and blew a blood vessel.”

Jessica cleared her throat. “Yes that would be helpful.” Harvey was pleased to hear that her voice wasn’t as strong as before. She motioned for Mike to join them. Harvey helped Mike into his chair, grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge for himself and standing close by. Donna came to stand with Sam.

Mike told Jessica what he had told Harvey, every little detail he could remember, down to the make and model of the cars in the garage. Donna made sure to text the information to Scottie, something Harvey would thank her for later. It wasn’t pleasant to listen to, even a second time around. The curse of Mike’s memory was he would relive each touch, each smell, each painful second for the rest of his life. So what trouble would he have reciting it to Jessica, with a calm expression and still hands. Whereas Harvey, as Mike explained what the two men had done to him, felt like his blood was burning. His hands shook, jaw tight, and all he wanted to do was take a bat to these two men, to break them in the most painful ways he could think of. 

He looked up when Mike’s hand reached out for his own, his skin clammy against his calloused palm. Harvey caught the flicker of Jessica’s gaze to their entwined fingers, before she looked back to Mike’s bruised face. Harvey knew he’d hear about it later.

“Well,” Jessica said once Mike had fallen silent, looking away in what Harvey prayed wasn’t shame. “I suppose there’s only one thing to do from here.”

“And what would that be?” asked Sam.

Jessica stood and walked to the windows, wringing her hands as she thought. “While I’m inclined to believe Harvey’s accusation, there is still a chance we might be wrong.” She held up a hand before Harvey could speak. “Which means we need someone looking into that. Donna get Vanessa Renaldi onto the phone. Have her look into our recent competition see if anyone is stupid enough to pull shit like this.”

Donna was gone before she had finished speaking, phone to her ear as she marched onto the balcony.

“If Harvey is right,” Jessica continued. “Then we have a problem, gentlemen.”

Her gaze had gone dark and cold. It sent a raw chill down Harvey’s spine. He hadn’t seen that look in many years, much like Donna’s rage the night before. Jessica stood, imposing, powerful, with the world beneath her Prada shoe and Harvey was humbly reminded of why this woman was in charge.

“What do you want us to do?” He asked, glancing at Sam. The normally calm and at peace giant looked vicious and livid, his hand gripping the coffee cup so tightly Harvey was expecting the ceramic to crack at any second. His jaw was clenched, eyes narrowed, nostrils flared as he took deep steadying breaths. He set down his cup and stood to his full 6’7” of height and Harvey could feel the corners of his mouth curling in a cruel smile. 

Sam was pissed. 

That meant there were no rules.

Jessica turned to face the three of them. “Mike is going to stay here and rest. I want them to think they’ve done their job, that they’ve broken him. Let them think they’ve beaten us. Would you have a problem working from your apartment, Mike?” she looked to him and Harvey felt the kids’ hand tighten around his.

“N-not at all, ma’am,” he replied. Harvey didn’t feel as okay with it, because Mike’s apartment had no security and was probably being watched as they spoke. But Jessica continued before he could chime in.

“Good. Then you’ll do so until the fundraiser. I’ll want you attending so that the entirety of Manhattan will be able to witness you and your good health.”

“And when these fuckers try to make a second pass?” Sam asked, his voice low and dangerous. 

“Once we are sure that this was the work of Daniel Hardman,” Jessica said calmly. “I’m going to call him into my office and have a little talk with him. I want the truth, to set the record straight. And I am going to remind him why I took the school from my father and why it is still mine to this day.” 

She let out a slow breath, her nostrils flaring like an angry bull. “And you two are going to make the men responsible for the boy’s injuries regret every breathe they’ve ever taken.”

“Mrs. Pearson that’s not-” Mike began to stay, trying to rise from his chair. Harvey put a hand on his shoulder and carefully pushed him back into his seat.

“Michael, darling,” Jessica said gently. “You might think that we are overreacting.” She came to him and knelt in front of him, placing her hands on his knees. Mike stared at her. “But I can assure you, there is no reaction more fitting to an attack this cruel and underhanded. In our business, if someone attacks our own, we ruin them.” 

She smiled, and it was a beautiful stunning smile of straight, white teeth and ruby red lips, and Harvey felt his blood run wonderfully cold.

“Am I understood?” she asked in a sweet voice.

“Yes ma’am,” Mike forced out, going still and tense under Harvey’s hand. “Perfectly.”

“Good.” She patted his knee. “You may be new to this family, Michael. But I assure you, we will take care of you. Loyalty is rewarded.”

Mike nodded, scared and stiff and Harvey couldn’t help the fond smile. Jessica had always taken the idea of her fighters being family more seriously than any other school. Harvey had been terrified at first, worried that maybe he’d joined the mob instead, but after some time, and a few days spent with Jessica’s one living brother, he knew why she cared for her fighters. People are born with bloodlines, but that doesn’t mean they couldn’t build their family later in life. Jessica had learned that at a young age and had been building her family ever since.

She stood and straightened her crimson dress. “Now. I’m going into the office. Donna will join me in an hour. You will stay here with Mike. Focus on making weight, spend the afternoon working out. Until you get a phone call from me. Then you and Sam will follow my orders. Am I understood?”

“Yes Ma’am,” Harvey and Sam said in unison. 

“Michael, you call me if you need anything.” She gave him a real smile, one with warmth and comfort, before grabbing her purse and heading for the door. “Keep him alive, Harvey.”

Sam set his mug in the sink and made to follow, stopping when he reached Mike. He ruffled Mike’s hair. “You’re gonna be fine kid. I promise. Harvey and I will fix this.” He looked to Harvey then. “We’re gonna keep you safe.”

“Thank you Sam.”

“See you, Harvey.”

“Watch your back Sam.”

“You too.”

The door closed and the two of them were wrapped in silence. Harvey moved, kneeling down in front of Mike, who was staring intently at the ground.

“Look at me, Mike,” he said softly. Blue eyes met his. “Are you ok?”

“You’re treating me like I’m fragile,” Mike said after a moment.

“I’m not trying to.”

“You and Sam are.”

“We want you safe.”

“I don’t need your fucking mobster protection,” Mike snapped. He made to stand but Harvey grabbed for his hands and held them tight. Mike crumbled.

“Mike look at me. Look at me please.”

He glared at Harvey with defeat and fire in his eyes. It broke Harvey’s heart.

“When I saw you in that elevator I was more terrified than I have ever been.” Harvey said. “I couldn’t breathe and the only thing I could think about was the fact I might not wake up and see you the next morning.” He shifted on his knees. “Now funny as it may seem, that’s never fucking happened to me before. Not with Donna, not with Jessica, not with anyone.”

“Not sure I believe that,” Mike mumbled, looking away.

“Whether you do or not it’s the truth. And I am, at heart, a barbaric man who likes the way breaking bone feels under my hand. This whole mobster protection thing? It’s the only thing I know how to do, Mike.” He reached up and cupped Mike’s face in his hands, careful of the bruises on his jaw. “I’m not good at feelings, or connections, or anything more than a few nights of great sex. But for some reason I cannot fathom, here you are and here am I and all I want to do is kill these fuckers for touching you. I want-”

“If that’s your way of saying I love you, it needs work,” Mike said frankly, 

That stopped Harvey’s train of thought dead, quickly cutting off his rambling. He hadn’t thought of it that way, that he’d practically confessed to falling in love with a kid he barely knew. He stared at Mike, wide eyed and caught off guard, but that only made Mike laugh. He leaned in, kissed Harvey’s nose, and took his hands in his, pulling them carefully off his face.

“Go ahead and beat the shit out of these guys,” he said. “I’ve got no problem with that.” He pressed their foreheads together. “Just promise me that you won’t treat me like a china doll.”

“I promise.”

Donna rejoined them. “Apparently I’m going into the office?”

“Jessica’s request,” Harvey said, turning to her and getting to his feet.

She sighed. “Fine. I’m using your shower.”

“Use the guest bedroom. I need to clean mine.” She nodded and turned on her heel, disappearing down the hall. “Remind me to clean the bathroom,” he added, glancing at Mike. The kid smiled and gave a weak nod. “You hungry?” Another nod. “Awesome.”

They shared breakfast. Or rather, Mike ate and Harvey nibbled at some carrots. Making weight was a bitch, if he were honest, but it was better than staring at the scale on national TV and realizing he hadn’t made the cut. And eating rabbit food and taking salt baths was better than what he had tried last year, which had put him in the hospital for a week due to dehydration and malnutrition.  
After they’d finished eating, and Donna had kissed them both goodbye before leaving for the office, Harvey helped Mike changed the band-aids and gauze, washing the cuts thoroughly and massaging his aches with careful hands. Mike was quiet through the process, merely nodding or shaking his head when Harvey asked what hurt and what didn’t. He then gave Mike a few pain pills and ushered him to bed.

“I’m not tired,” Mike complained.

Harvey handed him a remote and nodded to the tv hanging on the opposite wall. “Watch whatever you want, okay?”

“Where will you be?”

“In the next apartment over, until the doctor arrives. Jessica is right about me having to work out. I’m behind on my regimen and someone needs to kick Tanner’s ass this weekend.” He tried to smile, but seeing Mike’s face made it hard. The bruise on his jaw and cheek was still a deep ugly purple, rings around his eyes dark and his lips scabbed. “You’ll call me if you need me, right?”

Mike nodded and reached out. “C’mere.” When Harvey reached him, he pulled him in for a kiss. “Thank you.”

“Hush.” Mike made a face. “Don’t thank me till I win this weekend, okay?”

Mike nodded and kissed him again. 

“I think I love you, Harvey Specter,” he whispered against Harvey’s lips. 

Harvey was worried his heart stopped for a second. But then Mike smiled at him, gorgeous and full of life, and he could feel it deep down in his core. He opened his mouth to force out a reply but Mike just shook his head and shoved him away.

“Go kick the punching bag’s ass.” he said. “The dick deserves it.”

“Oh does he?”

“Yeah he was eyeing me up last night.” Mike gave him a shit eating grin and Harvey laughed.

“Let me go set him straight.”

Doctor McDowell arrived around lunchtime, greeting Harvey with his usual toothy grin and firm handshake. Mike was skittish at first, as Harvey had expected, but one thing could be said for McDowell, he was gentle. After fights Harvey wasn’t good at being poked and prodded, didn’t like being caged up in a hospital room or in the ER. McDowell had been friends with Jessica’s family for years, took care of all her best fighters, and was thought of as the favorite uncle of sorts.  
He sat Mike down in the kitchen and checked his injuries, careful leathery fingers checking for broken ribs, testing the damage done. Mike was still while he worked, offering Harvey little smiles when he could, which Harvey matched despite the upset he was feeling. The cuts on Mike’s stomach had begun to heal, now a dark nasty red against his skin, the bruises were already beginning to fade, though most were still a vibrant purple shade. McDowell checked his vision and reactions, basic short term memory, everything he did when a fighter got knocked around in the ring and had trouble getting up again.

“Well if anything, you’re just going to experience some discomfort for the next few days, Mike,” he said after he finished, packing up his things. “No fractures in the ribs, just some nasty bruising. I’ll make sure you get some stronger pain killers. And don’t take what he gives you,” He added in a poorly executed stage whisper, grinning at Mike. 

“My drugs are awesome, thank you,” Harvey said, pulling a face.

McDowell laughed. “Yes but your drugs could probably knock out an elephant. A Hyena like Mike doesn’t need that much in his system.”

Mike raised an eyebrow. “Hyena?”

“They are vastly misunderstood creatures.”

“Alright then.”

McDowell pulled Harvey aside when he was finished and left him the prescriptions, along with a business card for a shrink.

“Now I don’t know what happened and I won’t force him to tell me,” the old man said. “But please, Harv, make sure he gets help if he needs it. You aren’t Superman, you’ll need a hand when things get nasty.”

“Thanks, Doc.”

When Harvey returned from showing him out, Mike was standing in the living room, hands clasped behind his back, eyes fixed on the floor.

“You okay, pup?” Harvey asked.

“I… I want to talk about it.”

Harvey blinked. “Oh. Alright.”

“We don’t have to but-”

“No. We’ll talk about it. I just didn’t think you’d want to.”

Mike gave a half shrug and chewed his lip. “You won’t touch me if we don’t talk about it.”

“And why do you think that?”

“You’ll be afraid of breaking me, I think.”

It wasn’t far from the truth. Harvey nodded and led the way to the balcony, settling down on one of the lounge chairs in the warm autumn sun. Mike, whom he expected to take the seat next to him, waited until Harvey was settled, before carefully curling up in his lap. Harvey hooked his arms around Mike’s waist, letting the boy tuck his face into his neck before he took a deep breath and started to speak.

“This is mostly from the guys at the bar,” he said softly. “All the aesthetic damage? The last two guys didn’t really do that. Just the cuts on my legs.” Harvey nodded, rubbing Mike’s back. “So if you want to get back at them, I’d just find their names from the last two guys and have Louis handle them or something. They really aren’t worth your time I don’t think.”

“I’ll be the judge of that, Mike.”

“Okay.”

“Anything else?”

“The two guys. They were drunk… Or high… I don’t know and I know it doesn’t excuse what they d-did, but they didn’t… They didn’t break me. It don’t want you thinking it did.”

“Mike-”

“No, I’m talking, shut up,” Mike snapped. He sighed and rubbed his eyes. “Look I know I’m not ok but I am at the same time. It hurts, I feel… I feel disgusting, like I should be peeling off my skin to try and forget. I’d like to wait a day or so before you and I try anything. But I’m not going to forget Harvey, no matter how much therapy Doc McDowell says I need.” 

“He thinks you’re going to be alright, actually,” Harvey offered.

“I saw him give you the damn business card.”

“Look,” Harvey hooked his finger under Mike’s chin so he could look him in the eye. “I told you last night that I’m not going to coddle you or force you into talking about it. You need me to keep my distance, to be sympathetic, to help you work through your anger, then fine, I can do that. But I told you that this doesn’t change anything.”

“I know you did but-”

“But?” Harvey smiled, his thumb stroking Mike’s jaw. “Do you not trust me?”

There was a pause. Mike watched Harvey carefully, with sad eyes that seemed to barely take in the man in front of him. Harvey stayed quiet, waiting for Mike’s answer, trying not to feel weakened by the lack of faith, by the amount of time needed to answer. Maybe it said something about Harvey, that he was being far too trusting for the first time in his life.

Mike leaned forward and pressed his forehead against Harvey’s. “I trust you.”

“Then trust me to take care of you. Okay?” Mike nodded. “You don’t have to do this yourself.”

“Okay.”

“Just tell me what you need.”

Mike kissed Harvey’s nose. “I will.”

“Good boy.”

 

Donna called three hours later.

“Meet me at the gym in fifteen minutes.”

“To do what?” Harvey asked, hitting the speaker button so he could finish his set. Donna was patient until the sound of his fists hitting the heavy bag ceased.

“Just get here.”

“Fine.”

“Bring a bat if you want.”

“Hardman?”

“Hardman.”

“Where is he?”

“With Jessica. You and Sam have orders.”

“I’ll be right there.”

Harvey wiped down the bag and dried off his hands, trying to get a hold on the tremors in his fingers. He was a bit surprised at being proved right. Rationally he wasn’t, he knew Hardman was likely the cause of all this, that he was responsible, that he was really the only person cruel enough and dumb enough to go this far. But at the same time it gave him a feeling of numbness.

He smiled though, because later he’d look back and be glad he got to live through something like this, something so classically associated with boxing but almost never spoken of now, not since the regulations came into place. It was something straight out of The Godfather and it had Harvey’s blood humming with a sickening delight.

Mike was asleep when he slipped back into the condo. He rinsed off in the shower and dressed, kissing Mike goodbye.

Time to go to work.

*

Jessica rapped her fingers on the desk, trying desperately to keep herself calm. She had an image to uphold, and needed Daniel to think he indeed had the upper hand. Her attacking him the way she wanted to didn’t help them in the slightest. But oh would it have felt good to wrap her hand around his short, pudgy neck and squeeze until she heard the tell tale crack of the c2 and c3 vertebrae. She had caught Donna’s eye through the glass wall of her office and in seconds Donna had been making the necessary phone call. If she was right, Harvey and Sam would be on their way to Hollins Garage as her fingernails tapped at the cherry wood of her desk. They would be on their way and soon the balance of power would be right again. 

But for now she had to do her part and set Daniel straight.

“I’m not sure what the point of this meeting was, Jessica,” Daniel said as he sat across from her. “I mean sure, the kid, what was his name, had promise, but nothing to hold my interest. I already have plenty of people working behind the scenes to help Travis and the team, why would I need one scrappy boy?”

“Mike,” she said slowly, “was attacked last night, Daniel.”

“Oh that’s a shame. Which hospital is he in? I’d like to send some flowers or something.”

“He refused a hospital, which I think was a stupid choice on his part, but then I wasn’t him. I wasn’t assaulted.”

“Do we know who’s responsible?” Daniel shifted in his chair, face the perfect picture of concern.

“That’s where the story gets interesting. And also the reason you’re here.”

Daniel scoffed. “You can’t honestly think I had anything to do with this? With the title match this weekend you think I’d take that kind of barbaric risk?”

“No, Daniel. But Harvey seems to think you’re willing to hire someone to take the risk for you.” Jessica rested her chin on her hands and leaned forward. “There wouldn’t be any reason why he thinks this would there?”

“Other than his ever growing insecurities and realization that he can’t beat Travis this saturday so he wants to throw the fight?” Daniel shrugged. “No I can’t say that there is.”

“Curious, because our PI would say differently.” A hint of color drained out of Daniel’s cheeks. Jessica watched Donna leave her desk from the corner of her eye and she let a mild grin work it’s way across her lips. “Care to rephrase your answer, Daniel?”

It took a moment, but Daniel’s face broke into an easy grin and he settled comfortably into his chair. “What can I say Jessica? The kid wasn’t built for our world. I did you a favor by making that clear.”

“You had a young man assaulted and raped. There is never a cause for something like that.”

“Raped?” Daniel sighed. “Well I can assure you that hadn’t been part of the plan, but with these paid hooligans what can you really expect?” He scratched at his hair, smile still in place. “I suppose it was kinder than breaking his legs, or puncturing a lung. Or having a repeat of Sorkin.”

A wave of nausea hit her. “I should have known you had something to do with Sorkin.”

Daniel’s smile widened. “Well in all honesty, Jessica, the boy did it to himself. And he would have done it without any say from me, it would have just taken a few years. Not to mention plenty of your assets. Now that I think about it, maybe that would have been a better option.”

Jessica took a deep breath to calm herself, before standing and turning to face the window. There were several ways to go about this. The recorder in her pocket had managed to catch their conversation, she could take it to the police, drag Mike there by the scruff of his neck, and have it all sorted out properly. But then the title match would be postponed indefinitely and the school’s reputation would take a hit they couldn’t afford. Another option would be to force Daniel into an apologetic submission, make it seem like she had enough evidence on him to ruin his school, and then reach a settlement, offering some of the money to Mike. But that seemed too gentle, too kind.

So she settled for the third option.

“What you did is unforgivable and I could easily have you and your school banned from the goddamn state,” she said calmly.

“But you won’t.”

“Solely because I want to see Harvey destroy Travis this saturday.” She huffed a weak laugh. “If it weren’t for that I’d tear you apart right here with my bare hands.” Turning, she fixed Daniel with a cold stare. “I want a reason.”

“A reason?” he parroted.

“Why did you attack Michael?” She clarified.

Daniel smiled. Nodding slowly he got to his feet and straightened his jacket. “Well someone once told me, a long time ago, that when we see the weak, we must weed them out to make way for the great. That we must prepare the world for real gods, not children pretending to be adults.” he stepped closer to Jessica, leaning in as he lowered his voice. 

“Get to the point.”

“What you did to me Jessica, what you took from me, from Alisha, is unforgivable. Now I would have let it slide but seeing as the world felt differently, and Alicia is now gone, I really have nothing better to do than watch you go up in smoke.” His smile turned malicious. “This may have been a bit rash but knowing that you and your precious bulldog are all tied up over it, makes it worth every penny spent.”

“Mike will recover.” Jessica said firmly.

“He will. But I don’t see him stepping anywhere near you or Harvey or a ring anytime soon. See, the same man also told me that fear is the best tool. It cripples the soul and breaks a man in ways nothing else will.”

Jessica held her breath. She knew those words, knew who had said them, and it made her stomach churn.

“Or is that not what your father taught us, dear Jessica?”

“Get out.” She spat.

“This is the beginning, Jessica. Michael means nothing to me, but if I manage to break Harvey, your golden boy, well then there will be cause for celebration.” He tipped an imaginary hat to her and turned to go. “And I’m sure Daddy would be proud to see your temper still hasn’t been cooled with age.”

“Out!”

When he was gone, Jessica paced her office, trying to calm herself. When that didn’t work she let out a shout of frustration and did what Harvey would have done. 

She punched a wall. 

Her fist went straight through the drywall and plaster. And despite the lingering pain, she had to admit it was satisfying. She then grabbed her phone and called Harvey.

“Specter,” he answered. She could hear the buzz of the city in the background.

“You had better be hightailing it to that goddamn garage Harvey, so help me god.”

“Daniel drive you up the wall.” He asked in a light, teasing voice.

“No but he made it a whole other level of personal.” She rubbed her knuckles. “I want you to scare these guys shitless, rough them up, and then bring one of them to the gym, alive, conscious, and able to speak. Am I clear?”

“So, Kneecaps not headshots?”

“Kneecaps not headshots.” She repeated.

“Aye, Aye Captain.”

“Call me when it’s done.”

*

The garage was thankfully void of clients, leaving only a handful of mechanics milling around, working on various car parts. Donna acted as the initial distraction, speaking with two of the men by the front, making up some bullshit story about car trouble up the road and what the price would be for various repairs. It gave Harvey and Sam the chance to slip inside and take a look around. It didn’t take long for them to find the blood stains on the cement floor.

“Can I help you boys?” one of the mechanics asked.

“Yeah uh,” Harvey nodded to the stain. “What happened here?”

The Mechanic shrugged. “You’d have to ask Andrews and Cliff. They were working last night, said there was an accident of sorts.” He eyed them a moment. “You guys cops?”

“Off duty,” Sam supplied. He pulled out his wallet and flashed what looked like a bonafide NYPD badge. “Are Cliff and Andrews here?”

“Yeah, sir just give me a minute to grab them.”

Harvey swiped the wallet once he left. “Let me see that.” Sam chuckled as Harvey examined the costume badge. “Where the hell’d you get this?”

“I was a cop for halloween a few years ago. Never bothered throwing it out. Figured it come in handy someday.”

“Sam, I’m impressed. You’d make a half decent criminal.”

They looked up when the mechanic returned with the two men following close. They gave Sam and Harvey concerned looks, like they were sizing them up for a fight. Harvey was glad for that, because attacking someone who wasn’t expecting it was no fun at all. 

“Thanks,” he said to the mechanic. “You mind if we talk to them outside for a few minutes? 

“Yeah sure, whatever.”

And just like that, the three of them were alone with Mike’s attackers, in the deserted back alley behind the garage, with the sun setting and the street lamps flickering to life in a ghostly haze. The other mechanics had more or less cleared out with the sun, packing their things, shutting the doors and turning out the lights. It really shouldn’t have been so easy, but then life wasn’t Law and Order. 

“Reggie said you was cops?” Andrews asked, looking from Harvey to Sam with uncertainty.

“Yeah that was a lie.” Harvey said with a shrug. “We did want to ask you a few questions though.”

“If you aren’t cops we have nothing to say to either of you.”

Donna cleared her throat and they turned to her. “You will answer their questions or the cops waiting on the corner will be here to investigate assault charges.” 

“We didn’t assault anyone.”

“All I have to do is scream,” she said with a sweet smile. 

“Fine, what do you want.” Cliff said, raising a hand to silence his friend.

“Last night, a kid was grabbed on his way home. About this tall,” Sam explained, waving his hand about eye level with Harvey. “Skinny, brown hair, blue eyes. We’ve got a few people who say he was chased in here. You know anything about that?”

“No,” Cliff said. Harvey kept his eyes fixed on Andrews, who started looking nervous. “Look shit happens man but we don’t know anything about some kid. We were working on a couple fords last night, had the doors closed. There’s a couple other garages down the block though, maybe one of them has something-”

“Explain the bloodstains,” Harvey interrupted.

“I cut my hand,” Andrews said quickly.

“I don’t see a bandage.”

“It uh-”

“Look,” Sam said, waving off Andrews’ reply. “We’re going to make this very simple. We are going ask a couple questions, you’re going to answer them. If you tell the truth, no matter what the truth is, we won’t turn you into the police. That fair?”

Cliff took a fortifying breath. Harvey wanted to knock it right out of him. He shifted on his feet and nodded. “Yeah that’s cool.”

“Do you know the kid we described?” Sam asked again. “His name is Mike Ross.”

“Yeah, we know him.”

“Were you involved in the attack last night.”

Cliff swallowed thickly, a flicker of guilt passing over his features. “Yes.”

“Did someone pay you to attack and question him?” Harvey asked, voice tight.

“Yes.”

“You got a name?”

“No,” Andrews piped up. “He was a short guy, graying hair, kind of portly. Creepy too.”

“How much did he pay you?”

“5,000 a piece. All we had to do was rough the kid up and scare him a bit, make him not want to go back to work today.” Cliff rubbed the back of his neck. “Things… Things got a bit out of hand.”

“That all you need to know?” Andrews asked. “Cause we’ve got work to do.”

The tone in which he said it, like what they had done hadn’t been of much concern, like it was their everyday event, that Mike hadn’t mattered to them not even in the slightest, made something snap in Harvey. 

He was moving before Donna or Sam could stop him, hands wrapping around Andrews’ neck, throwing him up against the alley wall so hard he heard the heavy thud of his head against the brick. And it felt good. 

“You better be fucking grateful that the kid you assaulted is more forgiving than I am.” Harvey’s fingers dug into the meat of the man’s neck. “Because if I had my say you’d be at the bottom of the fucking hudson for this you hear me?”

“We needed the cash,” Andrews gasped out, pushing at Harvey’s hands. “And the guy… It was his idea I swear!”

“And that made it okay?”

“No,” Cliff cut in. “No it didn’t make it okay.”

Harvey let out a slow breath and let go of Andrews, the man dropping to the ground, gasping for air. He turned to face Cliff, who backed away on instinct. “Then tell me why you did it.” Harvey demanded.

“We… We’d had a few beers. And found Gino’s weed stash that he kept saying didn’t exist,” Cliff explained quickly. “The guy’s a fucking dick so we thought, hey, smoke some of his shit and that’ll shut him up. Two joints in and the others show up with the kid. The kid is fucked up already man, he was bleeding and barely standing and he just looked like hell. And the guy who was in charge, who worked for the gremlin that paid us. He said the kid was nothing better than a used up, poorly paid whore. The others left, told us to keep an eye on him, to finish it up and get the answers we needed. One thing led to another and Andrews thought-”

“Don’t fucking pin this on me!”

“Andrews thought it was the best way to make a point,” Cliff near shouted. His hands were shaking. “I felt sick at the idea man but drugs and booze don’t make you think straight, you know? I was going to go to the precinct after work today, turn myself in, give up the money, see if I couldn’t fix it somehow.” He took a breath, deep and shaking, running his hands through his hair. “It ain’t a fucking excuse, I did it and I ain’t proud.”

Harvey regarded him in silence, letting him squirm as the three of them watched him, Sam and Donna waiting for Harvey’s next move. Andrews ended up making it for them.

With a jumbled cry of “Sellout!”, andrews got to his feet and made a grab for Cliff. Harvey was glad, it gave him a clear shot at the man’s jaw, sending him stumbling back into the wall.

“Donna,” Harvey said in a low voice that made Cliff pale. “Please escort this gentleman to the car. He can explain everything to Jessica.”

“And this one?” She shot Andrews a look of pure disgust.

“We have a few more things to discuss.”

“Fine.” Donna moved forward, stopping to deliver a painful kick to Andrews balls. The man crumbled with a cry of pain. “You don’t deserve them and if I ever hear your goddamn name again you will lose them.”

“Bitch,” Andrews bit out. Harvey had to admit, the sound his shoe made when it connected with the man’s face was a rather satisfying sound.

“Be nice or lose them,” He growled. 

Donna took Cliff’s arm and lead him away, Cliff throwing one last look of concern over his shoulder before they disappeared around the corner.

“Now, Andrews.” Harvey said, clearing his throat and slowly rolling up his sleeves. “Once we are finished here, you’ll be joining your friend in the car, which will take you to my boss. My boss, who happens to be one of the most powerful and dangerous women in the whole state of New York, is going to get your story, every goddamn detail, and then decide whether or not she’s taking you to the authorities. I can assure you, she probably will.” 

“You’ve got no proof it was me and Cliff, man. You can’t just do shit like this,” Andrews tried to argue, getting back to his feet. “The faggot can’t-”

Harvey could feel the breaking cartilage in the man’s nose when he hit him. “You ever say that word again and I’ll cut out your tongue.”

“This is assault, you fucker.”

“And if you file charges we will sue you for every pathetic penny you are worth,” Sam said, his voice level and calm. “We will make your life as worthless as it can possibly be, through every legal means we can think of and believe me, there are many.”

Andrews looked from one to the other, eyes wide and terrified and Harvey recognized the air of desperation that was settling over him. It was intoxicating, being the source of it. And he knew, he knew that was wrong, that this wasn’t the proper way to handle his problems.

But when Andrews let out a bellow and charged at harvey, and the pent up rage Harvey had been keeping in for 48 hours was released in a barrage of fists, it felt so good.

So goddamn good.

He was glad that Andrews tried to fight back. It made Harvey feel like less of a bully, because a fight was only fair, was only a fight and not an outright attack if your opponent was fighting back. and Andrews managed a clean shot or two, nailing Harvey in the ribs and once on his jaw. Sam kept a distance at first, watching the mouth to the alley to make sure no one could see them. But once Andrews started to falter, and Harvey’s knuckles had started to bleed and it was clear he wouldn’t stop if he had any say, Sam stepped in and pulled Andrews out of Harvey’s grasp. He pressed him carefully against the wall and held his chin in one massive hand, forcing Andrews to look at him.

“You might be thinking to yourself that you are the victim in this scenario,” Sam said gently, like he was speaking to a child. “That we are bullies and you’ve done nothing to deserve this.” His grip on the man’s chin tightened and his voice grew deadly. “But let me be clear. You brought this upon yourself when you assaulted, violated, and raped an innocent young man. I don’t care if he works for us, you would be receiving this punishment even if he didn’t. You are a vile, pathetic excuse for a man, Andrews, and I will see you suffer for this. We both will. Because you could leave town, you could run and hide away and be a model citizen from this point forward. But you and your friend? You did this.”

Sam stepped back and Andrews slumped to the ground. “You made the choice, you live with the consequences. We will be watching, you can be very sure of that. And you can be sure that no matter where you go, or who you chose to become, we will be haunting your every miserable step. Am I clear?”

When Andrews didn’t respond right away, Sam nudged him not so gently with his boot. 

“I said am I clear?” He repeated.

“Yes, sir,” came the weak reply.

“Good. Now get up.”

*

Mike was curled on the couch, watching The Addams Family, when he heard the Ding of Harvey’s private elevator. He scrambled off the couch, still wrapped in the thick blanket from Harvey’s bed, and turned in time to see Harvey emerge.

“Oh my god,” Mike sputtered.

“Come on I don’t look that bad,” Harvey said, tossing his jacket onto a nearby chair.

“You look like you just left Fight Club,” Mike clarified. “What did you do?”

Harvey’s shirt was splattered with blood, but the only wound Mike could see was a thin trail of blood from Harvey’s lip., His knuckles were wrapped haphazardly in thin gauze and taped down with scotch tape, his hands shaking with the familiar tremors. His eyes were framed by dark circles, his shoulders sagging with an unseen weight, and the lines on his face, usually so delicate around his eyes and mouth, were heavy set and well defined with a tired scowl.

“Oh Harvey what did you do?” Mike asked again, his voice small in the open room.

It took a moment, but Harvey gave a weak shrug, barely a roll of his shoulder and said, “I made things right.”

The way he said it, the way his words, soft and fleeting in Mike ears, carried with them the weight of unspoken emotion, made Mike’s heart break.

He dropped the blanket on the couch and went to Harvey. He held the boxer’s face in his hands and kissed him, slow and sweet and loving. Harvey met him with a tired smile, his hands coming to rest on Mike’s hips. Harvey rested their foreheads together when Mike began unbuttoning his shirt, rolling his shoulders when he slid the garment slowly down his arms. Then Mike undid Harvey’s belt and worked off his jeans, leaving him standing in his boxer briefs, chest mottled with old, yellowing bruises. Mike kissed the skin just over Harvey’s heart, where the starfleet insignia rested, feeling the solid, heavy drumming beat of the man’s heart against his lips. 

“Mike-”

But Mike shook his head. He stepped away to gather the blanket, before pulling Harvey towards the bedroom. He didn’t care what had been done, not really. Besides, Donna would tell him in the morning he was sure of it. Right now all he cared about was Harvey, his Harvey, the man stupid enough to go out and pick a fight for the sake of his honor and well being, like it was the only thing to do. He crawled onto the bed and tugged at Harvey’s hand, silently asking him to follow. And he did, laying down next to Mike, letting Mike wrap himself around Harvey, letting him bury his face in his messy blonde hair. Mike smiled when Harvey’s lips pressed against his pulse point, felt him sigh against it and his grip tighten.

“I’m glad you came home,” Mike whispered. “I was scared.”

“I’m sorry I scared you, T’hy’la,” Harvey murmured against his throat.

“T-”

But Harvey shushed him with a kiss, possibly the sweetest, most loving kiss mike had ever been given. And it shook him to the core.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Weigh Ins. And someone has a strange sort of change of heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the delay in this update, school and work got in the way. Hopefully for now things will be smooth sailing.
> 
> this chapter is pretty simple, pretty slow, the fun stuff happens in the next two. then we should be wrapping this up and planning the potential sequel.
> 
> enjoy

While Rachel assured him that MMA Weigh In’s were far more entertaining, Mike had to admit, watching a bunch of muscular hot headed guys square off and try to look scarier than their opponents was a pretty hilarious experience. He was glad that Harvey didn’t really take part. He stepped on the scale calmly, ignored the taunting look from Tanner on the other side of the small stage and let the attendants work. Mike could feel the entire present team (Rachel, Donna, Ben, Rocky, Sam and Melinda) heave a sigh of relief when he came in two pounds below limit. 

“I don’t know which was more insane,” Rachel whispered to Mike as Harvey and Tanner met in the middle of the stage for their photo. “The time I watched two fighters make out on that stage. Or the time they started the fight early and broke each other’s noses.”

“Were the fighters hot?” Mike asked.

“Not particularly.”

“Then broken noses sounds much more fun.”

Tanner invaded Harvey’s space, sneering at him as the camera’s flashed. Even though they’d barely been together for a month, Mike knew the expression on Harvey’s face. Tanner seemed to think it was passive irritation, that his taunting was getting to him. But Mike, and Rachel if her hitched breath said anything, knew the truth.

His jaw was set, eyes dark, face blank of any real give away emotion. 

Harvey was ready for blood.

Of course he was all arrogant smiles when the team met him in the locker room. Sam, who had finished his weigh in’s soon after, messed up Harvey’s carefully styled hair with a laugh.

“Look who avoided a trip to the ER this time.”

“Hardy fucking har, Sam.”

“What put you in the ER last time?” Mike asked, settling on one of the benches as Harvey packed up his stuff.

Sam answered for him. “Bone head here tried a salt bath. Dehydrated himself and then thought going for a run on a 90 degree day was smart.”

“Jesus christ, Harvey-”

“Hey, I never said I was the smartest guy in New York, okay?” Harvey said with a shrug, but Mike caught the hint of a worried frown and the tightness in his lips that meant he regretted it. It was an improvement at least.

“No but you better hit the hardest.” Donna’s heels preceded her arrival. “Press wants a few minutes then we’re getting lunch and getting prepped for the fundraiser tonight.”The chorus of groans from the team made Donna roll her eyes. “Oh shut up you know the rules.”

They scattered, leaving Harvey, Donna, and Mike to handle their branch of the press themselves. Mike stayed behind in the locker room, continuing his two days of hiding as per Jessica’s request. She hadn’t told him, or rather, Harvey hadn’t passed along the story of what happened once the two men responsible had been brought to her, but Mike had a pretty good feeling he wouldn’t be seeing them any time soon. He was just grateful there was no press about it.

“Hey, kid.”

Tanner stood behind him, leaning against the row of lockers. Mike scrambled to his feet as best he could and faced him, trying to keep his chin up. It was a silly attempt really, Tanner seemed to relaxed to pick a fight. And with Harvey just outside it would be pointless, Mike told himself.

He was right.

“Tuck your chin,” Tanner said after a moment.

“Excuse me?”

“Your chin.” Tanner tapped his own. “Tuck it when you’re facing off against someone. It’ll help save your face.”

“You don’t do that with other fighters.” Mike let himself relax, crossing his arms over his chest.

“I want them to hit me kid. That’s how this whole thing works.” Tanner chuckled and ran a hand over his slicked back hair. “Taunt and tease and piss them off cause the harder they hit-”

“The harder they fall.”

That made him smile. A sharp, uneasy, and yet, a wise smile. “Bingo.”

“What do you want Tanner?”

He stood straight, slid his hands into his pockets and looked down at his feet, like a sheepish five year old. “I was hoping to talk with you a moment. Without your pitbull.”

“Then talk.”

“I heard what happened.”

Mike felt sick. “Heard? Or took part?”

“Heard,” Tanner said quickly, looking up. “I’ve done some shit in my life kid but nothing like that.”

“Congratulations you’re a fucking white knight,” Mike snapped. “What’s your point?”

“Are… Are you ok?”

The question echoed around the locker room, heavy and dead on Mike’s ears.

“No. I’m not. But even if I were it’s none of your goddamn business.”

Tanner nodded slowly. “That’s fair I suppose.” He hesitated, staring at his bare feet a moment. When he looked up to speak again, footsteps, hurried and distinct, cut him off. Harvey came around the corner, the smile on his face vanishing at the sight of Tanner and Mike.

“The hell is this?”

“We’re just talking,” Tanner said quickly, raising both his hands in surrender. 

“You’ve got no right-”

Mike stepped in front of Harvey before he could make a grab for Tanner. “No, no, don’t. It’s fine. We were just talking, Harvey.”

Harvey stilled but his scowl stayed on Tanner’s face. “About what?”

“I… I wanted t’see if there was anything I could do,” Tanner admitted, like it was shameful.

Harvey stared at him. “I beg your pardon?”

“You heard me asshole,” Tanner said weakly. “I overheard Hardman acting like a smug fuck, found out why. I wanted to make sure the kid was at least alive.”

“Why the hell do you care?”

“I don’t.”

Mike sighed. “Ok this is pointless. Harvey go find Donna we’re going to lunch.”

“No, no I wanna know why you’re suddenly so interested,” Harvey said, taking a few steps towards Tanner. “Because you certainly didn’t care enough to keep this from happening.”

“I didn’t know, Harvey.”

“Sure you didn’t.”

“I didn’t,” Tanner said again, stressing the negative. “I wasn’t involved. That’s not me.”

“You expect me to believe that after that stunt you pulled with Marquez? And Guillem?”

Tanner winced. “Ok look I’ve done some shit-”

“You fight dirty, Tanner.”

“Yeah, I fight dirty, and I do it to a person’s face,” Tanner took a step closer to Harvey. “If I wanted to mess you up and better my chances I’d have fought you outside the ring already. I’d have gone after you, not your boy,” he pointed at Mike. “I don’t hurt people who aren’t involved. You know that.”

“Guys come on-” Mike said, trying to step between them. 

“You still fight under that asshole’s banner,” Harvey shouted. “You still fight for him. Makes you just as bad.”

Tanner froze. He watched Harvey with a distant look, his sneer faltering. Harvey held his gaze, Mike standing with a hand pressed to each of their chests.

“Not after this fight.”

The words echoed like a funeral sermon.

“W-what?” Harvey asked, thrown.

Tanner stepped back. “This is my last fight for Hardman.” He shrugged. “I told him this morning. Soon as one of us hits the canvas I’m freelance.”

“Travis if he-”

“He’s already threatened to blacklist.”

If anything could be compared to a death sentence in the world of combat sports, being a blacklisted boxer was as close as someone ever got. Coming back from a blacklisting, no matter a fighter’s skill set, was one of those one in a million miracles they made lifetime movies about. 

“Travis…” Harvey said, regret stepping in to take the place of anger. 

“Don’t. I know what I’m doing, kid, I’m making the choice.” Tanner glanced at Mike. “I never approved of the more extreme tactics. Roughing a guy up in the lockers is one thing. This is different. I refuse to take any part.”

Mike was taken aback. Sure, he didn’t know Tanner well, at all. But he’d done his research. Tanner was hardened and cruel, he didn’t back off when a fighter fell, he didn’t care what bones got broken. He was violent and lethal and most fighters didn’t like getting into the ring with him. They never knew what bullshit dirty moves he might throw. He’d built quite the legendary reputation, by being that person, the one who had no friends, whose teammates hated him, whose opponents held no respect for him. 

And now he was giving it all up.

“I’m not asking you to throw the fight,” Tanner added after a moment. “I’d rather get my ass handed to me than ask you for that. But yeah, thought you should know that.”

Harvey was silent.

Mike stepped fully between them and moved the hand he had pressed to Tanner’s chest up to his shoulder, brought his other hand up to do the same, and smiled up at him. “You know, you’re not so bad when you drop the shithead act.”

Tanner smiled. “No?”

“No. Not so bad.”

Carefully, his dark eyes flicking to Harvey in caution, Tanner hooked a finger under Mike’s chin and lifted it, so he could examine the slowly fading bruises and mending scabs. “You get him checked out?”

“Yeah, two days ago,” Harvey said.

“All superficial?”

“Mostly.”

Tanner nodded. “Good.” He messed up Mike’s hair gently. “You’re a good kid, hate to see this stop you.”

“You not being a shit head is really weird,” Harvey told him, and Tanner laughed.

“It feels weird, to be honest.”

“Does it? I imagine it would.”

“Alright you two,” Mike chided, clapping Tanner on the arm, dodging another swipe at his hair. “Be nice.”

“You… You really calling it quits?” Harvey asked Tanner, disbelief clear.

Tanner nodded, a solemn look in his eye. “Unless someone picks me up. Besides I’m not getting any younger. I’ve got, what, six years on you?”

“Eight,” Mike offered and Tanner groaned.

“Yeah that’s what I thought.” Tanner laughed weakly. “So yeah, I’m stepping down after this.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah.”

Harvey seemed at a loss for words. But then he smiled, one of those intimate, gentle curls of the corner of his mouth and he offered his fist to Tanner. The older fighter looked at it, laughed, and bumped his fist against it.

“I’m not going easy on you,” Harvey added.

“I wouldn’t want you to.”

“And I’m still going to win.”

“Like hell.”

Mike watched them, reminded distantly of himself and Trevor, as Harvey and Tanner exchanged a few light blows in teasing. Maybe, he thought, that would be his future, finding Trevor again one day, but being completely at odds.

“See you in the ring pretty boy,” Tanner said, slipping on his shoes and grabbing his bag.

“Bring your pacemaker old man.”

Tanner’s sharp laughter escorted him out of the locker room, leaving Harvey and Mike watching the trail of sound until the door closed.

“Didn’t see that one coming,” Mike said after a moment.

Harvey laughed. “And on that very, very weird note, we should go.”

“You think he’s serious?” Mike asked as Harvey grab their bags and lead the way out to the car.

“Kid no one jokes about blacklisting. He’s serious.”

“That Diaz kid kept saying he was quitting.”

“That Diaz kid is a punk who just got his ass kicked.”

“True.”

“He’ll probably go into coaching or, if he’s managed his money right, start up his own school. Most boxers who retire do that.”

“I just… didn’t think what happened would make anyone leave,” Mike said with a shrug.

“Sometimes people don’t realize how bad things are until something throws it in their face. Tanner’s not stupid, he knew shit was going on, I guess he just needed one final reason to cut ties.”

“Still, it’s weird that I’m the reason.”

“Nah, its not.”

“No?”

“You bring out people’s better natures, pup,” Harvey told him. “I’m living proof.”

 

The fundraiser was nothing like Fight Night, but then when Donna threw a suit at him, Mike should have realized that. It was elegant and everyone glittered in the warm lighting of the hall. You’d never know half the people were boxers and fight fans, he thought to himself, following dutifully as Harvey and Donna led the way into the hotel. Apparently, despite the City’s attempts to detach itself from violence, its rich history and love of violent sports hadn’t yet faded. Which was why when Harvey, and the rest of the team, all dressed in matching gray suits with blue neckties, entered the hall, they were greeted with fanfare and the rapid flashing of cameras.

Mike did his best to stay out of the way. He watched, silently, as the fighters gave their short, well rehearsed interviews and mingled with the reporters. It was entertaining, to see things from this side. He’d only ever seen it all from the spectators chair, from the couch watching the television, seeing the glitz and the glamor and the dazzling smiles. He hadn’t known about the two hours of prep it took to get all the fighters dressed and groomed and prepared for all the chaos that was the fundraiser, or how difficult is was to get them all in the car, to ward off unsanctioned reporters, to get the night to run without a hitch. He had a new found respect for Donna and everyone else in her position.

Once the initial mingling and chatting and presentations were taken care of, the fighters were able to actually enjoy themselves, well, as much as possible. Harvey made sure Mike was back at his side the entire time, including him conversation, making him feel counted, welcome, wanted. He met other fighters from schools across the country, who were in town to train or to see the fight, one or two of them who looked at Harvey like he might actually be Superman, but was just trying out a new disguise. Mike met the wealthy patrons who donated ungodly amounts of money to the various schools and gyms and tournaments. Some were stuffy, still caught up in a world that hadn’t existed in decades. Others were young and vibrant, talkative and genuinely interested in the sport and the fighters. A few had wanted to join the sport, but due to physical or social reasons, had never been given the chance. Mike noted the presence of athletic starlets, Mayweather and Pacquiao and Silva and Rousey all present, wishing the new fighters well and promoting their upcoming fights. It was surreal and just a tad bit overwhelming.

But Harvey kept him close, kept him grounded with a gentle hand on his lower back or his bicep. Thanks to that, Mike felt right at home.

Hardman arrived about two hours into the party, Travis arriving separately and only staying long enough to see Harvey, get a photo or two, and make his excuses. He and Harvey got some odd looks from the other guests when they hugged and didn’t start an argument while getting their photos taken, but once Tanner was gone, no one mentioned it.

Hardman, however, made sure to linger and pester until Harvey looked like he was going to snap and commit multiple counts of first degree murder. He didn’t even notice Mike’s presence at first, Rachel and Kyle had joined them just long enough to steal Mike away before Hardman had caught sight of him.

“You ok?” Kyle asked, fixing the lapels on Mike’s suit.

“Yeah I’m fine, get off.”

Kyle just kept fussing. “You looked panicky.”

“I’m not used to big crowds.”

“None of us ever are.”

“Why are you being nice to me?”

Kyle shrugged. “You’re on the team, no reason not to be.”

“Uh huh.”

Rachel laughed. “He’s a little less awful when Greg isn’t around.”

Greg was off somewhere trying to seduce an heiress. Mike hoped he was failing miserably. “So what, you just feel like being nice?”

“You’re the new kid and you got a bit roughed up. I figure I probably should have been less of a dick in the beginning and maybe something could have been prevented.” Kyle smoothed Mike’s hair. “But again, its theoretical.”

“It couldn’t have been, dude.”

“I know.”

“How much do you-”

“Just that you got jumped and beaten up a bit, routine boxing bullshit.”

Mike tried not to sigh in relief. “Routine for you maybe.”

“At least you didn’t get tazed,” Kyle said with a grin.

“You’re joking.”

“Nope.” Kyle stepped back and glanced over his shoulder, at where Harvey and Jessica stood, in front of reporters, with Hardman, trying to be cordial. But they could see the death grip Jessica had on Harvey’s wrist, keeping him in line. “What do you think they’re talking about?”

“How badly Harvey’s going to destroy Tanner,” Rachel said with a sigh, slipping her hands into the pockets of her suit trousers. 

“Does anyone actually think Tanner is going to win?” Kyle asked.

Mike nodded. “Harvey’s the underdog in this one.”

“What?!” Kyle demanded.

“That’s what the reports have said. The biggest bets are on Tanner, and I quote, putting Harvey in his place and taking the title.”

“Dude,” Kyle said. “Harvey’s been champion for the past two years. He’s going to crush Tanner without breaking a sweat.”

“You seem so sure.”

“I am. I’m surprised you aren’t.”

Mike shrugged. “I guess I’m worried that if I think he’ll win he won’t and-”

Kyle chuckled and patted his shoulder. “Don’t worry, Harvey’s never let that shit stop him before.. Have a bit o’faith.” He looked back and caught Harvey’s eye. “I think they want you.”

“What?”

“He’s looking over here. I think he wants you.”

“Shit,” Mike swallowed thickly. “I look ok?”

“You look great, Ace.” Kyle shoved him gently towards Harvey and Jessica. “Knock em dead.”

Easier said than done, Mike thought to himself, making his way over to Harvey and standing quietly just behind him and Jessica. Hardman still didn’t notice him, but the conversation made Mike’s stomach tighten.

“You just recently lost a team member didn’t you Jessica? I could have sworn that’s what the rumor mill has been churning up.” Hardman was smiling at her. It made Mike’s skin crawl.

“Not sure where your rumors spawn from,” Jessica said with an easy smile of her own, not missing a beat. “Our team is entirely present and accounted for.”

“There’s no shame in admitting the truth now, Jessica. In fact its better that the weaker links in a team are either strengthened or replaced, everyone knows that and I-” Hardman glanced in his direction and froze.

“Ah, Michael, there you are,” Jessica turned to him with her wide, catlike smile. “Ladies and gentleman, I’d like to introduce our newest stat manager, Mike Ross.”

Harvey reached for him, carefully hooking his arm around Mike’s shoulders and pulling him forward so the flashing cameras were aimed at the two of them. Mike tried not to look like a deer in headlights. 

“We brought Mike on a month ago and in that short time he’s done nothing but make this team stronger,” she continued, speaking to the reporters, while Harvey held the panicked gaze Hardman was giving them. “We certainly hope to have a long and prosperous partnership with him, don’t we, Mr. Ross?”

There was a moment of tense silence as everyone looked to Mike for his answer. It was terrifying and he suddenly understood why some people fainted in front of the camera. Harvey gave his shoulders a squeeze and Mike caught Hardman’s eye. The man was watching him, carefully, looking for the faintest crack in his posture, his smile, his voice. He was looking for proof that he had already one.

It was cute.

Mike stood straighter and did the opposite of what Tanner advised, lifted his chin and flashed the reporters a smile. “That’s the plan Ms. Pearson. Starting with this meathead’s fight on saturday.”

“Do you think the critics are wrong?” A reporter asked. “In their assumptions that Harvey might lose?”

“I do, actually. You don’t stay champion for two years without fighting with everything you’ve got. And now Harvey has me. We’ve been through his personal stats and training regimen. We’ve reworked everything to make him more efficient, more controlled, and much more dangerous in the ring. I think the critics are going to be in for a surprise.”

He looked at Hardman then, aware of everyone’s eyes on him. “Might want to double check Tanner’s health insurance there, Daniel.”

The reporters laughed. Hardman started turning purple. Mike’s grin turned sharp, just like Harvey’s. Just like Jessica’s. Just like they’d taught him.

“Something to say, Daniel?” he asked sweetly.

Broken.

Ha.

What a funny concept.

That a man as simple and petty and vile as Daniel Hardman could break someone like him. Someone raised the way he’d been raised. Someone carved from the raw materials and experiences of life. Someone who had spent a childhood and a half with his teeth bared and his feet ready to run.

To think that a snake like Hardman would break him.

It made Mike smile.

He looked up at Jessica and Harvey and found them watching him with odd expressions. Harvey’s was a passionate mixture of pride and adoration and, if Mike was going to be vain he might as well go all the way, lust, in the corner of Harvey’s dark eyes. His grip tightened carefully around Mike’s shoulders and his cocky smile turning then to the reporters. Jessica’s expression was more complex. There was pride there, Mike could make that bit out. There was amusement. There was surprise. There was relief. 

Almost as if she was glad he was stronger than everybody had first thought.

Mike could agree with her on that.

He was glad to be strong.

They didn’t stay too long after that. Harvey made their excuses, something silly Mike didn’t hear, and called Ray to take them home.

“You ok?” Harvey asked as they stood waiting on the street. Mike nodded. “You sure?”

“Yes, Harvey, jesus, I’m fine.” Mike laughed. “Did you see how he squirmed?”

That made Harvey laugh too. “God I thought he was going to burst a blood vessel.”

“We can only hope.”

“You scared him kid.”

“Oh?” Mike asked as Ray pulled up.

Harvey nodded, still smiling. “Oh yeah. You scared him real bad.” He helped Mike into the car and slid in next to him. “My place?”

“Yeah.”

“You sure you aren’t sick of me yet?”

Mike shook his head, leaning over to rest his forehead against Harvey’s shoulder. “Never.”

“Mike Ross I’m starting to think you’re some kind of saint.”

No, Mike thought to himself. Not a Saint, never a Saint.

He was human. Strong, fighting, unyielding.

And that was so much better.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your patience, but we are finally reaching the end of this fic!
> 
> one chapter left. most of this chapter is prep for the fight and Mike coming to terms with his unease. hopefully the final chapter will be posted within the next few days.
> 
> enjoy
> 
> batty

The morning before the fight was the inevitable, expected, overly cliched calm before the storm. Mike knew it shouldn’t have surprised him, but it did. Harvey was up at six, just like always, to go for his morning run, being sure to kiss Mike goodbye before he left. When he returned he didn’t crawl back into bed the way he usually did. Instead he made breakfast for them both, showered, kept himself busy. Mike suspected nerves, maybe the impending match was finally starting to get to him. Not that Mike blamed him in the slightest. He’d be nervous too, if someone was trying to take a belt he’d successfully defended for two whole years. 

Shit, he’d be terrified.

“You ok?” he asked finally, watching Harvey pace the kitchen.

“Hm?”

“You seem tense,” Mike said, with only a hint of mockery. Harvey made a face. “Well you do.”

“I’m fine.”

“Uh huh.”

“I am.”

“Harvey, its not a cardinal sin to be nervous.”

“The last thing I am, about fighting Travis-Fucking-Tanner, is nervous,” Harvey bit out.

Mike smiled and kept watching him pace like an irritable house cat. “Whatever you say, babe.”

“I’m glad you’re enjoying this though.”

“It’s a nice view.” And it was, Harvey pacing back and forth in front of the quickly lightening skyline of the city, as the sun rose and warmed the autumn air. It cast soft, curious shadows on Harvey’s face and body as he moved, reminding Mike of a Tiger he’d once watched at the Zoo. “What’s the plan for the rest of the day?”

Harvey rolled his shoulders, hands half lifted in a shadow box stance. “We’ll pack up and leave for the hotel in about an hour or two. There’s honestly no need for the room, other than it makes crashing tonight easier. We’ll rendezvous with the team, make sure everything is in order. I have a light training session, you’ll be with Donna and the press most likely. Then we just wait it out.”

“Is there anything you need me to pack?” most of his stuff was still at his apartment, but he had the new clothes Donna had bought for him. Harvey would probably pick out the suit he’d wear, since he now had three that were passable. He still didn’t feel comfortable with the whole fancy dress aspect of his job. But it made Harvey smile, so he didn’t complain. 

“Just some clothes and whatever else you need for a night or two away. We won’t have much time for leisure once we get there. After the fight we can make a treat out of it. You and me just hanging out in the suite, if you want.” Harvey smiled at the thought, shadow boxing lazily as he paced. 

“We never did get to have our dinner.” 

That made Harvey pause, looking over at him. “You’re upset about that, aren’t you?”

Mike shook his head. “Nah, not really. I mean, you’re still here, I’m still here and if nothing horrific happens then we’ll have time for plenty of dinners.”

“You sure?” Mike could hear the tinge of guilt in Harvey’s voice. Faint, but there all the same.

He sighed and slipped off the barstool. “No I’m furious at you for having to choose work over me for the sake of both our careers.” He stood in front of Harvey with a soft scowl. “Just absolutely furious.”

Harvey watched him for a moment, eyes narrowed slightly. “.... you’re joking.”

“Yes you oaf, I’m joking.”

“Oh… Right.”

Mike laughed. “You really think I’m that mad at you?”

Harvey shrugged, looking away. “I dunno. Haven’t done this in a while.”

“Done what exactly?”

“Dating,” Harvey almost growled, like he was embarrassed. “It’s been… a while, since dating was something I did. I’m rusty so I… I don’t know if I’m doing something wrong or not.”

Something about hearing Harvey admit it out loud made Mike’s insides twist with affection. It was silly, he knew that, being so happy about a label, when all that really mattered was how they felt. And he knew it wouldn’t even mean that much. It’d be kept between them and the team, never to be known by the press.

But Harvey believed it.

That was enough for now. 

“Hey,” Mike said, encouraging Harvey to look him in the eye. “You’re doing fine, okay?”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

The corner of Harvey’s mouth twisted up in a shy smile. “I’ll make it up to you after the fight.”

Mike nodded and kissed the corner of his mouth. “I can’t wait. Now, let’s get packed, yeah?”

They were packed and on their way within an hour, Ray greeting them outside Harvey’s building with a bright smile and a Pearson Boxing t-shirt, instead of his usual suit. It made Harvey laugh and Mike could feel some of the tension leaving him. He didn’t need to be nervous. Mike knew he was ready, knew how bad he wanted to stay on his throne. Tanner didn’t stand a chance.

Once they were settled there really wasn’t much time for nerves. The rest of the team arrived not long after they did and they all trecked back to the gym, for one last practice. It was closed to the regular students, giving Harvey and Sam free reign on the equipment. A handful of students did wander in though, to offer moral support, or just to watch the pros in action. 

Mike and Donna settled into the office together, reviewing last minute press releases and stats, making sure the paperwork was in order, the medical records and insurance forms ready in case anything went wrong. There was a underlying tremor of tension, no matter who Mike talked to. They were nervous, even if Harvey was walking around with his usual confident air.

By lunch, Mike was getting nervous too.

It was one thing to have watched Harvey fight four months earlier. They had been strangers, and Harvey, with blood on his face and fire in his eyes, had been the most beautiful thing Mike had seen in months.

Now the idea of seeing him bloodied and bruised scared Mike to death. 

Now he knew what went into it. He knew what bones would get broken, what damage would be done, what lasting trauma could lay in wait while everything seemed fine. He knew how many fighters went home with head injuries and died in their sleep. He knew how quickly careers could end, with paralyzation or brain damage. And yes, he knew that the sport had become much safer that it previously was. And yes, Harvey’s chances of being completely fine were just as high as his chances of sustaining a permanent injury. 

But watching him get hurt, watching someone attack him, seemed a lot harder to stomach now that Mike was preparing to watch it live. 

He’d never tell Harvey though. 

He was pretty sure that, no matter how much Harvey liked having him around, he’d never be as high a priority in his life as his career. 

He told himself he was alright with that. It made the afternoon easier, made watching Harvey prepare himself for the “Front Lines”, as Sam called it, a little more bearable. But only just.

Jessica arrived at 2, wrapped up in sweats and a t-shirt, a gym bag slung over her shoulder. It was the first time Mike had seen her out of office clothes, or anything designer. Her hair was tied back, her careful lipstick exchanged for grappling gloves and a smirk. He wasn’t sure which side of Jessica he preferred, but she was terrifying all the same.

“Where’s the champ?” she called, setting down her things. Harvey looked up from his stretches and stared at her. “Yes I am referring to you. Get over here.”

“Why?”

“Because I own your soul and I said so. Move.”

Harvey rolled his eyes and got to his feet, padding over to Jessica as everyone else watched on. “Yes oh benevolent one?”

She grinned at him. “You know the rules, last practice round of the day belongs to me.”

He made a face. “Seriously.”

“Seriously,” she shrugged. “Unless you’re chicken.”

Mike looked at Donna. “Are they seriously going to-”

“Oh yeah. Every time he has a big fight. She comes down and they square off.” Donna settled in to watched, ignoring the stack of papers in her lap. 

“And how well does that usually go?” Mike asked, doing the same, as Jessica and Harvey stepped into the ring.

“Well, Jessica hasn’t lost yet.”

It was the perfect way to break the tension in the air. Rachel played Ref, checking with each of them as they stood waiting in their respective corners, Harvey bouncing lightly on the soles of his feet as Jessica just watched him like a predator. Rachel dropped her hand, signalling the beginning of the fight, and Mike realized why Jessica had managed to not only take the school from her father, but maintain it.

She was easily the best fighter he’d ever seen. 

Apparently, they ignored many of the actual rules to a boxing match, such as no kicks, no take downs, no martial arts in general, and instead just had an all out brawl, being as careful as possible so Harvey didn’t suffer an actual injury. With the lack of rules, Harvey was able to relax, dodging whatever jabs he could, countering, blocking, knocking Jessica’s legs out from under her. Of course that just gave Jessica the opportunity to knock him down as well and boxing became grappling until one of them managed to get loose and back to their feet. Mike was fairly certain no one was actually keeping score, that it just came down to who knocked the other on their ass the most times by the end of the fight. They seemed okay with that though if the intermittent laughter was anything to go by. 

The only problem Mike found was not knowing who to cheer for, his fighter or his boss. 

Jessica resolved that for him, expertly knocking Harvey off his feet and pinning him to the mat, just as the timer hit zero and Rachel signaled the end of the match. 

“And that’s Jessica three, Harvey zero,” she said, excusing herself from the ring as the students watching laughed and applauded. 

“I call foul,” Harvey said, his voice somewhat muffled from how it was pressed against the mat.

Jessica sat on his back and shook her head. “Or you could just not be a sore loser for once.”

“I am not a sore loser you are a cheater.”

“You are such a baby.”

Harvey glared up at her until she laughed and rolled off of him, helping him sit up so he could catch his breath. Mike watched them, fond and feeling a little cut off. There were years and years of shared words and thoughts between them, so many stories and memories he’d never be party to. There was a reason Jessica leaned in with a smile and pressed her forehead to Harvey’s, a reason why he smiled in return and rested his hands on her shoulders, as they sat there just breathing for a moment. 

He was glad Harvey had her, that they had each other, for whatever it was worth. He swallowed down the taste of jealousy though, because that had no place there. They were a family, that’s what Jessica was trying to teach him. Maybe one day he’d have something like that with the other fighters. Maybe he’d feel like he belonged too. It had been a long time since he’d felt like that.

“Okay,” Donna said, interrupting his thoughts. “That’s all the paperwork. We’re ready to go.”

“Yeah?” Mike asked, his voice catching from his nerves.

She glanced at him. “You ok?”

He nodded. “Sure. I’ll take those, get ‘em packed up for later.”

“Mike-”

But he was hurrying up to the office before she could finish her question. He shook himself, trying to stay focused, as he sorted the papers and placed them in their proper folders and files. 

He was fine.

He was fine.

A knock at the door made him jump. “Yeah?”

He expected Donna. Or Harvey. Or even Rachel.

“You ran off pretty quick,” Jessica said, slipping inside and closing the door behind her. “Everything alright?”

“I uh, yea, yeah just wanted to get these filed for later, that’s all.”

She watched him with an arched brow as he worked. “Nervous?”

“About what?” Mike asked. “I mean, I’m not the one fighting so no, not really.”

“You’re a shitty liar.”

He flinched, but there wasn’t a harshness to her words, more of a fondness than anything. She sighed and dropped into one of the empty chairs, pulling off her grappling gloves. “It’s nothing,” he said, trying to be firm.

“I have watched a lot of people I care about climb into the ring over the years, kid. It’s not nothing. It’s terrifying and its eating away at you, right?” She looked up and waited for Mike to nod. “We go through just as much worry and pain as the fighter does, we just don’t have the blood or bruises to show for it.”

“I guess… I guess I just thought I’d be okay,” Mike said with a shrug, leaning against the desk. 

“There’s nothing wrong with being scared for him,” Jessica said easily. “Means you love him. And he needs to know that.”

“I don’t want to get in the way.”

“Knowing someone cares about you isn’t getting in the way, its a reason to come out of the ring in one piece,” she corrected him. “Sometimes, that’s more important than winning titles, or winning at all.”

When Mike didn’t interrupt, only looked at her in confusion, she sighed. “A lot of fighters get it in their heads that winning is the most important thing. Nothing else matters, and they go to great, dangerous lengths to accomplish it. Trouble is, they forget that they have a team, and often a family, waiting in the wings for the fight to end. Harvey… he forgot that for a while. Even with Donna and I keeping him in line, he had a lone wolf stint for a while. It didn’t end well.”

“The ER?” Mike asked.

She nodded. “That’s just one of many instances where he put himself in jeopardy. What I’m saying is, it's okay to be scared, and it’s not going to keep him from doing his best if you tell him. We’re all a little scared. There’s a lot we can’t control once he and Tanner are facing off. But hiding up here, in your books, isn’t going to do anyone any good, especially you.” she stood and stretched. “You’re strong and you’ve made it this far. Don’t let a bit of fear stop you now.”

“Can… Can I ask you something?” 

She paused at the door.

“How come you never went pro?” Mike asked. “I mean, you’re… you’re the best fighter I’ve ever seen. You could have been a legend.”

A flicker of sadness moved across her face, tinged with bitterness and a touch of regret. There was anger too, which lead Mike to think that maybe it wasn’t entirely her decision.

“You’re a smart kid,” she said finally. “I was the youngest and only daughter in a family of violent men, taking part in a sport that hasn’t had an officially women’s league until very recently. I think you can piece it together.”

She left him with that and Mike felt his nerves ease ever so slightly. 

Even the great Jessica Pearson was scared sometimes.

He took a steadying breath and went to rejoin the team. He’d been brave through worse. He could be brave through Harvey’s fight. 

They had five hours till the fights began. All the paperwork was done, Harvey was rehydrated and relaxed. There was nothing more to be done.

Except, apparently, choose an entrance song.

When Mike rejoined the others, they were all spread out in the ring, snacks and bottles of gatorade scattered amongst them. Harvey leaned back against the ropes, scrolling through an ipod as Sam brought over the small portable stereo.

“what exactly is happening?” he asked, climbing up and settling next to Harvey.

“Fighter’s gotta have entrance music,” Harvey said, grumbling, as he kept scrolling through the songs.

“The fight is in five hours and you haven’t chosen one yet?”

“Oh shut up.” He made a face. “It’s not like you had a song in mine.”

“I have several, you just won’t like them.”

Rachel laughed. “What about something pop-punk?”

“Pop-what?” Harvey asked with a disgusted face.

She rolled her eyes. “Fallout boy.”

“What’s a fall out boy?” A few students groaned. “What?”

“Never mind,” Rachel waved it off and sorted through CDs. “Can we please not pick something from the eighties?”

“Please, can we not,” Donna echoed.

“Fine, then suggest something that’s helpful. Other than bands I don’t know, just to make fun of how old I am.”

“What about something from ACDC, or like, Metallica?” Rocky suggested.

“We used ACDC already,” Sam said. “And Metallica can be a hit or miss.”

“Here,” Mike said, taking the ipod from Harvey. “Let me see.”

Harvey grumbled and rested his head i Mike’s lap, waiting. “Just don’t pick anything stupid.”

They spent an hour picking songs, some just for kicks, others out of sincere interest. Harvey was picky about music, nothing had the right beat or the right words or the right chorus or the right bridge. He did end up liking Fallout Boy, which Rachel found hilarious, even if he said no to using one of their songs. 

Country music was effectively cut out of the options. He didn’t know enough rap songs to use any, thought his students started making a list of music he needed to listen to, which Mike found unbearably sweet. eventually they decided to try instrumental options, something from a film soundtrack, though Donna banned anything from Star Trek before Harvey could even open his mouth to suggest it.

Rocky found the song in the end. He was fiddling with his own ipod while the others argued, making a soft sound when he found a particular song. He crawled over the other students to plug the ipod in and play the song, everyone chattering until the first few notes played, echoing off the walls. 

Everyone fell silent.

Mike knew the song, something from a big summer blockbuster with monsters and robots and everything Harvey would no doubt love. It was regal enough to be imposing, with whatever orchestral arrangement was used, paired with electric guitars and the faintest hint of dubstep.

Harvey sat up. “That’s the one.”

“What’s it called?” Donna asked, ready to write it down for the sound techs.

“Go Big or Go Extinct,” Rocky said, showing her the screen. “You think there’ll be copyright issue?”

“Not if we pay ‘em enough. Which we can,” Jessica said, returning from the locker room, dressed in a well trimmed white suit, her hair carefully curled around her face. “Donna you can handle it right?”

“Sure. Sam you’ve got your song?” He nodded and handed her his ipod. “Awesome, I’ll be back once this is handled.” 

Harvey dropped his head back into Mike’s lap and sighed. “Well that was harder than it should have been.”

“Only cause you’re picky as hell,” Mike said, poking his nose.

“Harvey,” Jessica said, stepping up to the ring. “Take it easy for the next hour or so, Then you and Sam can practice a bit. Nothing more, understood?”

“Yes ma’am.”

She offered her fist to him and he pressed his against it. “If I don’t see you before the fight, kick his ass.”

He smiled at her. “Understood, boss.”

“Be careful.” she glanced at Mike, as if trying to encourage him, before grabbing her things and following Donna out of the gym. 

Harvey looked up at him. “You okay?”

“Yeah can… can we talk real quick? In the office?” Mike asked, taking Jessica’s advice.

Harvey frowned but nodded, rolling to his feet and leading the way. Mike followed dutifully and closed the door behind him. 

“Mike what’s going on?”

“Nothing I just…” he sighed. “I’m nervous.”

Harvey frowned. “You don’t think I can win?”

“No, no, I know you can win, by a fucking landslide even. I just… I don’t want you getting hurt and all of a sudden its like I realized what it is you actually do for a living and it…. I’m scared.”

The momentary silence unnerved him a little, Harvey just watching him in surprise. But then he smiled, and pulled Mike into a tight hug,

“I’ll be alright, kid. Have a bit of faith.”

“I do. I just can’t help it.” He looked up at him. “You’re kind of a stubborn ass on a good day and I’ve seen you fight. You don’t exactly make the smartest choices when you’re wrapped up in the moment.” I don’t want to go to the hospital and wait for you to wake up, he refused to say. He’d done that enough already. 

Harvey kissed his hair. “How about I make you a deal?”

Mike scowled at him. “You aren’t funny.”

“No, no, I’m serious. We’ll make a deal. I’ll do my best to be careful and when I win, which I will,” Harvey hesitated. “You…”

“I what?”

“Move… in with me.”

Mike stared at him. “Are… Are we having the same conversation?”

Harvey laughed and sat down, pulling Mike with him. “I’d like to think so.”

“How does you not going to the hospital equate to me moving in with you?”

“You want to take care of me, I want to take care of you…” he shrugged. “It’s the exact same thing.”

Harvey had to be the most ridiculous, infuriating man Mike had ever met. There was no longer an doubt on the fact. He laughed, breathless and unbelieving, straddling Harvey’s thighs as he tried to find the words. 

“You don’t have to,” Harvey said after a moment. “And I can still be careful.”

“No, no I’ll… I want to. I just think that was the most absurd way of asking that I’ve ever seen,” Mike said, leaning in to kiss Harvey’s forehead.

“So… you will?”

“Yes, you idiot. But only if you promise me you’ll be careful.”

Harvey smiled up at him, honest and warm. “I promise.”

Mike watched him, befuddled and alight with those annoying warm fuzzies that all those shitty love songs talked about. He let Harvey coax him in for a kiss, sighing against his lips.

Three hours left.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Walking to the ring felt a little like drowning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we are at the final chapter of this massive mess. I'm sorry for taking so long, life has been, well, a spectacle if anything. I will be reediting this in the morning when I've had some sleep and will correct any errors then, so just bare with me.
> 
> I may very well add an epilogue, but for now, this is it.
> 
> I hope you all enjoyed the fic, and thanks so much for sticking with me this whole way. 
> 
> yours always,  
> Batty

Blowjobs in the office, a few rounds of “I can totally dance better than you goddamn kids” in the ring, and most of Harvey’s nerves were gone, as far as Mike could see. He was his usual trash talking, overconfident, gorgeous self, and he lead the team into Madison Square Garden with the biggest, brightest, shark toothed grin of arrogance Mike had ever seen. And on anyone else, it would have been infuriating. But it made Mike smile, following a step behind him, his bag of binders and notes slung over his shoulder. It made stomaching the flash of cameras and shouting of reporters easier to ignore, as Harvey and Sam just sauntered, yes sauntered it was hilarious, past them like they had far better things to do. It was another part of Harvey’s world Mike had only seen on TV, the pre-fight coverage, the team’s arrival, being hounded by the press, like they were gods for the night. It was strange being in the entourage, instead of the crowd.

Strange, but Mike could find himself getting used to it. Very, very quickly.

And while Mike didn’t have much purpose in the prep room, since he wasn’t a fighter and couldn’t help Harvey review the basics let alone his signature moves the way Rachel or Rockey could, the team made space for him, keeping him close. Maybe it was for Harvey’s own comfort, or for Mikes, being able to see that Harvey was okay, was prepared. Whatever the reason, being able to settle next to Rocky and read out different combinations for Harvey to practice, felt like the only place Mike ever needed to be.  
God when had he turned into such a sentimental bastard?

“Alright,” Donna said, barreling into the room with food for the team and something light and leafy for Harvey. “First fight is about to start.” She turns o the tv in the corner so they can watch, even if none of their teammates are competing. “There’s two guys you wanna keep an eye on Harvey, for once Tanner’s face is smeared across the canvas. They’ll be coming for you.”

“Mm gotta love those desperate ones. Wonder how much trash talk we’ll get to hear.” Harvey says with a grin, snagging a gatorade from his bag and dropping onto the mats the arena staff had laid out for them. 

“Some guy named Huntley’s making a bit of a name for himself.”

“Huntley?”

“Some dick from England.”

Harvey made a face and started stretching aimlessly. 

“Hey remember the last time you didn’t take someone seriously, you left the ring on a stretcher.”

Not what Mike needed to hear.

“It was also one of my first main fights. So whatever.”

“Harvey-”

“Fine, fine, who else?”

Donna listed off the names of various lower ranked fighters who were hoping for title shots, if the commissioner would allow it, and Harvey offered up his uninformed opinions of them, making Rocky laugh. Mike was a little stunned at how much the kid admired Harvey. Stunned to the point that it worried him, ever so slightly. But Harvey would be careful with the kid, the way he was with Mike. 

“Oh and Travis wanted me to give you this for some reason,” Donna said when she finished, handing Harvey a small envelope. Harvey took it with a frown.

“Maybe it’s laced with poison?” Rocky suggested, Sam laughed. 

“Travis isn’t that stupid, kid. Probably just some shit talking he wanted to squeeze in at the last minute.” Sam pulled off his hoodie and sat down in front o Harvey to help him stretch, waiting for him to finish with the note.

“Well?”

Harvey was quiet, eyes skimming the scribbled words on the stationary in his hand. 

“Harvey?”

“... Just trash talking. One last offer for me to back out,” he said, but Mike caught a tremor in Harvey’s voice. Harvey tucked the letter into his bag like it was nothing and grinned at Sam. “His usual bullshit. Can’t stand the thought of losing.”

“What a surprise.”

Mike would ask later. Because Harvey may have been many things, but Mike was starting to realize he wasn’t that great of a liar. 

The first fight ended in a TKO in the third round, much to the enjoyment of the crowd, who had apparently been hoping for a big show of knock out power. 

The second fight of the night ended in a decision, and there was a n uproar when the boxer who had seemingly been on the losing side all night had his hand raised. Sam and Rachel agreed with the loud “boos” from the crowd, Harvey too busy getting his hands wrapped and gloved to care. The doctor arrived just as the Third fight started, carefully examining Harvey for any previous injuries and making sure he was ready to step into the ring. Mike noticed a slight wince when the doctor examined Harvey’s arms, but he just waved it off as basic soreness. 

The third fight ended in a final round TKO, much to the loud excitement of the crowd.

Then, suddenly, Harvey was slipping a robe over his shoulders, and being led to the door by security.

Without any guidance, the team fell into place around him, like a barrier, Harvey standing at the front of the formation, hood pulled over his carefully styled blonde hair. Mike stood just behind him to the right, Sam just behind him to the left, Kyle and Rachel a few steps after them, with Rocky and Ben bringing up the rear. Donna had gone to join Jessica in their first row seats. Security stood around them, in case the crowd got a little too excited, and they waited for the cue from the man in a headset, who stood just inside the massive arena doors. 

Tanner’s music died out and the arena went silent and dark. 

Mike felt the need to hold his breath. 

Harvey glanced at him, winked, and turned back to face the doors with a cocky smile. 

Over the surround sound speakers, the familiar hum of a guitar and bass started to play.

The doors opened. 

Mike felt a tremor of hesitation, but Harvey was already moving, which meant he had to fall in line, and follow him out into the arena.

The arena was much, much bigger than the warehouse where he’d first seen Harvey fight. It was immense, seemed to go on forever, the screams and the music echoing off the walls and high ceiling, lights flashing this way and that, making the crowd look like a massive sea of shadows and glittering light. 

Despite all the noise and chaos around him though, Mike felt like the world had slowed, the noise subdued. Not quiet by any standard, but it reminded Mike of the last time he’d been swimming and tried to see how long he could hold his breath. He’d held it too long and for a moment had thought he might drown.

Walking to the ring felt a little like that.

The noise around him was heavy and pulsing against his ears, every movement careful and well chosen, slowed down by the realization of “holy shit this is actually happening”. 

No one else seem fazed, so Mike just carried on. 

But the feeling stuck with him, even as Harvey hugged him, and turned to face the ref, who checked his gloves and made sure he was ready. It stayed as Mike watched Harvey climb through the ropes and start pacing the canvas, eyes fixed on Tanner who was already waiting in his corner. 

The announcer grabbed the microphone and started the introductions, half of them drowned out by the crowd.

The ref stepped forward, reminded Tanner and Harvey of the rules, offered them the chance to touch gloves.

Tanner offered his gloves to Harvey, who knocked his against them in return with a bow of his head, before quickly stepping back.

Mike held his breath. 

The bell rang.

Round one had Tanner and Harvey finding their respective rhythms, throwing a few shots, getting their foot work paced right so they’d be able to last more than a few rounds with each other. It was easier to watch, no major shots were made, no one got knocked off their feet. Sam kept up a gentle stream of reminders, telling Harvey to take a few steps right, a step left, aim for the kidney.

First bell rang and they stepped away from each other, taking a moment to breathe. They grinned at each other, two predators having the time of their life.

Round two, Harvey let his hands drop one too many times in a show of arrogance. Tanner handed him a black eye in return. Sam wasn’t happy, and he let Harvey know, telling him to keep his hands up or he’d be benched till kingdom come. Mike’s stomach had clenched when Harvey took the first hit, and the second. Rocky moved next to him and took his hand, holding it tight, grounding him. 

The second bell rang, more smiles, another moment to breathe. 

Round three and Mike say the first glimpse of blood. A perfect right hook to Tanner’s jaw and when he smiled at Harvey, red coated his teeth. Rocky’s hand tightened in his, reassuring despite the unsettling sight. Harvey managed another good shot, a blow to Tanner’s ribs that had him stagger a moment, but in Harvey’s neglect, Tanner managed a few shots of his own, bruising the skin just above Harvey’s hip.

The third bell and Tanner didn’t smile back at Harvey, too focused on having the blood wiped from his face.

Round four and it was Harvey’s turn to bleed a little, lucky shot to his nose and he was licking the blood off his lip as he cornered Tanner for a series of sharp blows to the ribs. Kyle was on Mike’s other side now, holding his left hand, shouting along with him as if what they said would give Harvey some magical upper hand in the fight. It felt better thought, having two people there to ground him. 

Fourth bell, Harvey and Tanner losing their friendly banter and starting to look like the killers Mike had seen in their other fights. 

Round six brought Mike’s fears to light.

Harvey had taken a few more hits to the torso, and Tanner had clipped his left and once or twice. Mike could see the scowl of pain in Harvey’s face, but he figured that was normal, considering the bruises already starting to show on his chest. 

Right hook, a few quick left handed jabs.

Tanner stumbled.

Harvey threw a heavy left hook.

The moment it connected, Harvey stumbled backwards, swearing in pain. He was lucky Tanner was momentarily stunned, giving him the chance to get his other hand up in defense, almost making it seem like nothing was wrong.

But the sixth bell rang and Harvey cradled his arm to his chest, retreating to his corner. 

“What happened?” Sam demanded, hauling himself up the ropes.

“I don’t fucking know! My arm it just- fuck!”

“Easy, easy, lemme see we’ve only got a minute.”

“Sam-” Mike scrambled up the ropes next to him, ignoring Harvey’s scowl and stomaching the panic. “Sam there’s swelling in his bicep.”

“Shit.”

It wasn’t swelling. 

Harvey’s bicep was torn. 

Swearing, Harvey gave a few careful test jabs, the seconds dwindling away. “It’s fine, I’m fine.”

“Harvey you’re not-”

“I’m fine-”

“I’ll get the ref?” Rocky offered. Mike was about to tell him yes, get the ref and the doctor.

But, and later everyone would realize they shouldn’t have been surprised, Harvey turned and stalked back to the center of the ring, hands up, ignoring the injury.

“Harvey what the fuck are you doing?” Mike screamed, Kyle dragging him off the ropes and shushing him. “Harvey!”

He wasn’t listening.

“Just, we’ll get him at the next break,” Kyle half promised him. “Just breathe, Mike.”

Somehow, Harvey managed to survive the next round. When the bell rang however, he ignored Sam’s orders to end the fight, claiming he felt “just fuckin peachy thanks” before turning back into the fight with a look of pure murder on his face. 

It was all Mike could do to watch with nothing but horror in his heart. 

Tenth round and it was beginning to look like the critics were right. Mike could see Hardman on the other side of the ring, watching Tanner tee off on Harvey with a nasty smile on his face. Mike could hear Donna screaming for Harvey to put Tanner on his ass, Jessica watching with a blank face. 

Two minutes to the end of the round and Harvey’s knees gave out. 

Mike felt like the whole arena was holding it’s breath.

“Get up,” Mike said, barely audible over the noise. “Get up goddamn it, get up.”

Harvey met his eyes for a split second and Mike saw fear in his face. 

“Get the fuck up.”

Sam echoed him, though without the vulgar words. Kyle and Rocky screamed along with him, holding so tight to Mike’s hands that there were sure to be bruises when they let go. 

Harvey hauled himself to his feet and met Tanner in the center of the ring. 

Tanner landed a right hook to Harvey’s kidney.

Harvey managed a block and a series of short jabs to Tanner’s ribs.

Another sharp jab from Tanner landed on Harvey’s left ribs. 

Thirty second warning. 

There were two rounds left, but it seemed Tanner was ready to end the fight then and there. 

Harvey ducked, dodged, parried-

Tanner swung, a heavy right hand-

Harvey shifted into the southpaw stance-

Tanner’s left hand dropped just enough-

With a crack, Harvey landed a brutal left hook on Tanner’s temple.

There was a moment of still.

Then Tanner crumpled to the canvas with a heavy thud.

Another moment of stunned silence.

The crowd erupted around them. 

Harvey stood frozen in shock, staring at Tanner who was just barely coming around. He looked at his own hands, like someone else may have done the deed, then back at Tanner, then at the crowd.

His face broke into a wide grin and he lifted his hands in the air-

The crowd screamed louder.

Mike felt a bit numb as Kyle and Rocky hauled him over the ropes and into the ring, swarming Harvey and hugging him tightly. He waited, silent, shocked, until the ref stepped forward, taking his place next to the announcer, and lifted Harvey’s hand in the air.

“And still the undisputed Golden Gloves Light Heavyweight Champion of the world-” the announcer shouted, like there was any possible confusion in the matter. 

The commissioner slipped the belt around Harvey’s waist where it belonged. 

Finally, Mike felt he could breathe again.

Sam hoisted Harvey on his shoulders and the trip back to the prep room was nothing but chaos, the crowd wanting to touch Harvey’s hands, congratulate him, the press swarming them the moment they stepped out of the ring. It took fifteen minutes to make the five minute trip from the ring to the prep room and the difference in sound once the door had closed was disorienting. Sure the team was busy shouting over each other, trying to tell Harvey their favorite parts, as Sam tried to usher the doctor in. Mike was quiet, panic still hitting him in every nerve.

When Harvey looked at him, grinning like Mike had never seen, the only thing Mike could think to say was-

“Are you fucking serious?”

Harvey frowned. “What?”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Mike shouted at him, the team falling quiet in surprise. 

“Mike I-”

“You promised me! You promised me you wouldn’t pull shit like this! You promised!”

“Mike I’m-”

“You’re not fine you’ve practically got a third goddamn arm muscle for christs sake!” Mike shouted, trying not to cry. He shouldn’t be crying, he was happy for him. He was, really. 

“I also promised you I’d win,” Harvey said, still smiling. “And I did. Mike I’m fine it’s- it’s just a minor thing I’m fine! Babe I’m fine. We did it-”

His hands cupped Mike’s face and the moment finally hit him.

Yes Harvey was injured. Possibly very badly injured. 

But Harvey also had the championship belt snug around his waist.

“Holy fuck we did it,” Mike blurted. “Holy- you did it! You won!” Mike threw his arms around Harvey and held him tight, feeling Harvey’s laughter just as much as he heard it.

The doctor finally managed to sit Harvey down and diagnose the problem. 

He had a torn Bicep. Not completely torn, but enough that if unresolved the damage could be potentially far worse. There was the expected murmur of “I can’t believe you finished the fight you’re an idiot” as he applied heavy ice packs and gave both Sam and Mike instructions for care but Harvey didn’t seem to care, at all. He was high on adrenaline and the sweet feeling of victory. The whole team was. Even Jessica kept her lecture under a minute and couldn’t help smiling when she told Harvey he was taking time off until his arm had healed. Donna finished her lecture, smacking Harvey upside the head for his reckless behavior before kissing his cheek and telling him how proud she was, how proud they all were.

Tanner found them on their way out.

“You are un-fucking-believable kid,” he said with a laugh, seeing the ice wrapped around Harvey’s arm. Harvey laughed and accepted the hug Tanner offered. 

“Well you said you wanted a fight. And no fucking way I’d just bow out for a little bruising.”

Tanner shook his head and messed up Harvey’s hair. “Yeah whatever. You get that arm fixed. I wanna see you wipe out the whole division you hear me?”

“What cause you couldn’t?”

“Go home jackass.”

“Good fight old timer.”

They had another short moment with the press, Harvey sharing the diagnosis and downplaying it as much as possible. He didn’t call anyone out, just told them how grateful he was for the chance to perform, how hard the whole team had worked, and that the belt was where it belonged. 

Finally, finally, they were able to leave the arena. 

The team had put together a party, a big one apparently, to celebrate. Harvey, to their surprise, declined.

“I need a break guys, doctors orders or whatever.”

Donna encouraged his choice so the team didn’t argue. They hugged him and said they’d see him in the morning, leaving Mike and Harvey to trek back to their hotel suite.

“I’m still mad at you.”

Harvey laughed and pulled off his shirt, heading for the bedroom. “Alright, maybe it was a stupid thing to do. I’ll be smarter next time.”

“No you won’t,” Mike said, setting down the key card and pulling off his team jacket. “You’re gonna make another dumb ass choice and get hurt again and I’ll yell at you and you’ll just smile at me with the same dumb look on your face as right now-”

Harvey’s laughter rang out from the bedroom, Mike following the sound.

“And I’ll forgive you. For some ungodly reason I’ll just forgive you-”

Mike’s words were cut off by Harvey’s mouth on his, the kiss heavy and needy. Mike’s hands scrambled for purchase, settling on Harvey’s bare shoulders as Harvey pressed him against the bedroom wall. Harvey groaned into the kiss, rocking his hips against Mike, already-

“Oh my god you’re already naked what the hell?” Mike demanded, breathless, trying to push Harvey away for a second. “Harvey you’re supposed to be resting! That’s why we skipped the damn party, you idiot.”

“Might be why you skipped the party. I skipped because I’d much rather celebrate with you,” Harvey sad with his predictable sharp smile that made Mike groan in reply.

“Your arm-”

“Will be fine. I promise tomorrow morning I’ll start whatever dumb recovery plan they give me. Just- I need this. I need you, Mike,” Harvey said, holding tight to Mike’s hips. It sent a shiver through Mike and he was not quite sure if it was a good sensation, or a bad one. He squirmed as Harvey dragged his mouth along Mike’s jaw.

“Harvey.”

His tone was severe enough that even in his haze, Harvey stopped, pulling back to look at him. Mike held his gaze and tried to swallow the anxiety building up in his chest.

“Mike, if you don’t want to that's fine,” Harvey said after a moment. “We can find other ways around this, until you’re ready-”

“It’s not…. It’s not that I don’t want to I just… I can’t promise I’m gonna enjoy it. Or even… or even be able to get through it. I…” Mike sighed and closed his eyes, resting his head back against the wall.

“Hey, hey, talk to me, ok?” Harvey was speaking softly, even if his hands were shaking against Mike’s hips and his pulse was racing. 

“I’m sorry,” Mike forced out, blinking up at the ceiling lights.

“You’ve got nothing to be sorry for.” Harvey said, kissing the hinge of his jaw. 

“Probably killin’ your buzz right now huh?”

“Oh, no, I’m going to be wired for at least half an hour at this rate,” Harvey grinned. “You’re fine, kid.”

“I wanna celebrate with you,” Mike sighed and rubbed his eyes. “I do, I just- I don’t know, thinking about it still makes me freak out.”

“How about we just take it slow, see what you’re ok with?”

Mike nodded, ducking his head in embarrassment. “Can I…. I don’t wanna be on the bottom.”

Harvey’s smile widened. “Luckily what I had in mind doesn’t involve that in the slightest.”

“No?”

Harvey shook his head and kissed Mike, softer than before, trying to bring do the pace so Mike can get comfortable. His hands were gentle on Mike’s hips, not grabbing or pulling or forcing Mike this way or that. He was careful, so careful, even with the violent tremors in his body, the result of beating someone into submission.

It shouldn’t have been enough to arouse Mike. But it was. 

The delicate nature of Harvey’s touch had always been enough to get a rise out of him. Now, as the focus of it, it was enough to quell the first taste of nausea in his throat, and follow Harvey to the bed.   
Harvey had Mike sit on the edge of the bed, kneeling down between his spread legs so he could tug off Mike’s jeans. He kept pausing, waiting for Mike to give him a sign, either continue or stop. Mike kept nodding his permission until Harvey was nuzzling the faint trail of hair that curled from Mike’s navel to the base of his cock. He held Mike’s gaze, waiting, watching, for any sign of discomfort, as he took the head of Mike’s cock into his mouth.

Mike swore, hips jumping a little and forcing his cock further into Harvey’s mouth. Harvey groaned happily and swallowed around him, relaxing until the head of Mike’s cock hit the soft muscle of his throat. He waited there, mouth full, lips stretched, until Mike nodded. Then he closed his eyes with a happy sound and set to work, Mike watching his cock disappear between Harvey’s lips as he started a steady rhythm. The sheer enthusiasm made Mike groan, fingers tangling in Harvey’s messy hair. It wouldn’t be long before he came, but maybe that was Harvey’s goal. Get him relaxed, a little blissed out, and then see how he felt. 

Or maybe Harvey just really liked giving head. 

“H-Harvey-” Harvey looked up to make sure it wasn’t a sound of distress. 

Mike’s face was flushed, eyes dark as he watched the way Harvey’s lips stretched, swollen and slick, around the head of his cock.

Harvey pulled off with a twist of his tongue and smiled wide. “You feeling okay?”

“You’re such an asshole,” Mike bit out, head dropping back as he tried to catch his breath. Harvey laughed and stood, coaxing Mike further onto the bed so he could join him. 

“I am, but you like it, so it’s a win-win.” Harvey kissed him, his lips swollen and red and salty against Mike’s. “You wanna keep going?”

Mike nodded. “Yes. Yes I- But I don’t-”

“Mike relax, whatever you want is fine.”

“I might need more time before I… y’know… bottom.”

Harvey hummed in reply. “Well, see, that’s not such a bad thing.”

“It’s not?”

“Actually, it’s rather convenient.” Harvey rolled them carefully, not paying much mind to his arm, until Mike was straddling him. “Because I’m not feeling all that toppy tonight.”

“You’re n-” Mike stared at him, Harvey’s grin hungry and amused.

Harvey wanted to be fucked.

Harvey wanted Mike to fuck him.

“Oh my god.”

“Is that a yes?” Harvey said, trying not to laugh.

Mike groaned and leaned down to kiss him, rocking his hips down against Harvey’s erection in reply. He could do that. He was sure he could do that. “Yes. Yes, yes, yes.”

“Eager pup,” Harvey growls, nipping at Mike’s lips.

“Shut up and spread your legs, asshole.”

Apparently Harvey had been planning this the whole way up to the room. The lube and condom were already on the bed waiting and Mike got the feeling that if he’d taken any longer to join Harvey in the bedroom, Harvey would’ve taken the liberty of preparing himself too. But Mike was grateful he hadn’t. He wanted to see the way Harvey fell apart, piece by piece, as he worked him open. 

Harvey hooked his hands under his knees and spread his legs wide for Mike, with that same daring smile on his face. It only vanished when Mike worked the first finger into him, replaced with a soft, grateful groan. 

They’d never made it past blowjobs, so Mike wasn’t sure what to expect from Harvey. But apparently, while hopped up on an adrenaline high, Harvey was noisy. Noisy and responsive to every touch and crook of Mike’s fingers. He squirmed and moaned, swearing every time Mike’s fingers found his prostate. The roll of his hips, the curl of his abs, all because of how desperate he was, captivated Mike. He’d seen how Harvey’s body moved, every day it was a lesson in Harvey’s grace, his power, his speed. But Mike had never seen Harvey like this, vocal, needy, demanding but unable to just take what he wanted. It was intoxicating.

“Please,” Harvey said, the end of the word a whine as Mike pressed hard against his prostate.

“Easy, easy Harvey just give me a minute.”

“Mike c’mon I’m fine, I’m fine just, please. Please, Mike-”

Begging. 

Harvey was begging. 

Maybe another time Mike would see how long he could drag it out before Harvey was nothing more than a begging, trembling mess beneath him. Push him all the way to the edge maybe.

But for the moment, Mike kissed Harvey hard, and went for the condom. 

“Be still for me,” Mike told him, once he had the condom on, settling back between Harvey’s spread legs as he lubed up his cock. 

“Easier said than done just come on already-”

“Good boys are patient,” Mike teased, bracing one hand on Harvey’s hip, using the other to guide his cock.

“Never said I was a good boy,” Harvey snapped back, just as Mike slid into him with one slow, deep thrust. “Ah fuck!”

Mike groaned at the tight heat and braced himself against the bed. “You okay?”

“God yes. Just move. Please move. Need you.”

The pace was rough and hungry, Harvey matching Mike’s thrusts every time, driving his cock deeper with each roll of his hips. His hands pulled at the sheets until Mike was sure they’d tear, head thrown back, mouth hanging open in a constant stream of happy, grateful moans. There were words thrown in there too, telling Mike how perfect he was, thanking him, praising him, asking for more, faster, harder, fuck me please. And Mike answered, angling their hips so each hard thrust made Harvey shake beneath him, the bed creaking with the force of their movements, Harvey’s voice louder and louder with each passing moment. Mike wondered if anyone passing the suite could hear, if there would be questions in the morning, people asking who Harvey had sent the night with.

He didn’t really care, much to his surprise.

All he cared about was the way Harvey shook when he came, Mike’s name on his lips, back arched beautifully. He cared about the way Harvey clenched around him, his own orgasm hitting him moments later. He cared about the way Harvey’s arms wrapped around him when he pulled out, the way Harvey kissed him, blissed out and dazed.

He cared about how the words “I love you” sounded on Harvey’s lips, his voice hoarse and low.

He didn’t care about tomorrow and what it might mean for them.

They had each other. They were safe. They had the belt.

All was well.


	13. o próximo capítulo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> remember kids: ice baths

“Mike.”

The pillow groaned softly.

“Mike. Mike?”

Another groan and the covers shifted. “What?”

“... I can’t move.”

The hotel suite was a mess. They’d ordered pizza, several pizza’s more than they had needed, opened two, maybe three bottle of champagne, and made sure they had fucked on all practical surfaces. Harvey had been content to bottom each time, which still even in his sleep heavy state, surprised Mike. he blinked at the cream colored wall and groaned, rolling onto his back.

“Whadd’ya mean you can’t move?”

“I can’t move.” Harvey lay next to him on his stomach, face half buried in the pillow. “My legs won't listen.”

“You’re still drunk that’s all.”

“I am not! I’m serious-” He swore in pain. “It hurts too much to move anything.”

“Which means you can move you’re just choosing not to.”

“Oh sure, choose now to be a fuckin smartass.”

“I’m always a smartass it’s why you keep me around.” Mike stretched and sat up.

“So what hurts?”

“Everything. Literally everything.”

“I told you sex on the bar was a bad idea.”

“It was a great idea I’m just reaping unforeseen consequences.” Harvey tries moving his arms. “Fuck! No, nope, not happening.”

“You tore your bicep idiot.”

“Oh so that’s what the throbbing pain is I couldn’t tell,” Harvey snapped.

Mike laughed gently and ruffled Harvey’s hair, since there was no way for him to fight back. Harvey just glared at him.

“Well this is cute and all,” A voice commented from the bedroom door. Mike yelped and scrambled for the covers. Donna leaned against the doorframe, in sweats and a tank top, her hair wrapped up in a bun. “But someone skipped their PT session after the fight last night.”

“Donna,” Harvey whined. “Donna I can’t move.”

“No shit you moron, you were supposed to-” she sighs. “Oh nevermind, you never listen anyway. Mike, stop being modest and get him out of bed.” She turned on her heel and made for the en-suite.

“How’d she get a key?”

“She always has a key,” Harvey grumbled.

Mike shook his head with a laugh. “Point. alright hotshot, let’s get you up.”

“No. I’m finished.”

“Oh please-”

“Just leave me here to die.” Mike laughed at him and grabbed a pair of boxers. Then he set about carefully getting Harvey out of bed. Harvey hadn’t been kidding about his pain levels. Each muscle in his legs were taut and aching, his arms sore to the point they felt like lead. After a few minutes of swearing and effort, Harvey was on his feet, walking gingerly to the en-suite door, not caring a bit for his lack of clothing.

Donna was waiting inside with a nasty grin on her face and a bathtub full of ice.

Mike had never seen Harvey pale faster. “No. No no no no, Donna, no-”

“Doctor’s orders.”

“No!”

“Oh what now?” Mike said looking over Harvey’s shoulder. When he saw the ice he started to laugh. Donna had filled the giant jacuzzi tub with as much ice and freezing water as she could manage. Which really wasn’t surprising, ice baths were a regular part of post fight/post training rehab. Technically Harvey should have taken one immediately after the fight, but they had been otherwise occupied, as Donna likely figured.

“Mike grab him some underwear, wouldn’t wanna lose anything valuable.”

“Mike no, don’t you dare.”

“Sorry boss, Doctor’s orders.” Mike grinned at him and went to grab a pair of briefs. It took both of them dragging Harvey into the tub for him to finally accept his fate. He was also too busy swearing at the top of his lungs to fight them. It was a hilarious sight, Harvey normally so pulled together and imposing, red faced and squeaking out as many colorful string of foul language he could think of as he slipped further and further into the ice. Mike couldn’t help but laugh. For Donna it was apparently a familiar process.

“Alright, so in 10 minutes you can hop out ok?” she said, sitting on the sink counter. “Then I’m teaching Mike your various PT exercises.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Mike sat on the edge of the tub, brushing Harvey’s bangs off his face.

Harvey just scowled at them both. “You’re supposed to be on my side, Mike.”

“I’m still mad at you for that bullshit you pulled in the ring. This can be your penance.”

“I said I was sorry.”

“Sorry, followed by blowjobs, isn’t a sufficient apology after breaking that kind of promise.”

Harvey sighed. “Ok, ok, fine. I’ll buy you a damn pony or something.”

“Or,” Donna offered. “You could take him to Rio.”

They looked at her in confusion. “Why… Why Rio, exactly?” Mike asked, puzzled.

Donna’s face broke into a sharp smile, focused on Harvey. “Why do you think, Harvey?”

Harvey stared at her for a second, brow furrowed. then, slowly, realization dawned. “She didn’t.”

“It’s hypothetical at the moment. but part of the merger with Darby means we need someone able to do both. Rachel isn’t ready yet, and she’s got too much pressure on her in her division already. And Jessica will die before one of Darby’s bulldogs gets the shot.” Donna handed Mike her phone. “It’s not going to be official for nearly a year. Louis has a ton of work cut out for him in legal. But she thought Rio would be a good place for you to heal, and to scout out the sport in its hometown.”

Mike took the phone, an email open on the screen.

_Donna-_

_Pitch it to Harvey. I’m not sure how ready he’ll be, but being champ for three years can start getting dull. He may be ready for a new challenge. Tickets to Rio will be on your desk in a couple days. yes, he can take his puppy with him. They’ll have a month to feel things out, for Harvey to get some of the best PT available, and then come home with a fresh perspective. He’ll be training too, I’ll have a fight set up for not too long after he returns._

_Darby wants to bring boxing and MMA together? We’ll be the ones to do it first._

_Jessica_

 

Mike looked from the phone to Harvey to Donna and back at the phone. “Wait, is she serious?”

“Let me see!” Harvey managed to reach out of the tub and snag the phone.

“She’s never joked about something like this before. I can't see her starting now.” Donna shrugged.

Harvey finished reading and handed her back the phone. “So what do you think, big guy?”

“What conference?”

"Well with the UFC absorbing literally every other option, it’ll probably be an east coast division first, then we call Dana and get a meeting. Have you moved up to the big leagues.”

“Wait you’re considering this?” Mike asked, shocked. “I thought- Harvey boxing is your everything.”

“It is. But… you’re only king for so long in a sport that is desperate for growth. This… this might be a good way to change that,” Harvey groaned and settled back in the tub, so the ice was past his shoulders. “Besides,” he grinned that shark toothed grin of his. “Not everyone can say they were king in two different sports.”

 

Mike met his gaze and sighed. “Tell Jessica we’re going to Rio.”

 

 

 

 

_to be continued_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See you in rio~


End file.
